Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

Whether my bark went down at sea,
Whether she met with gales,
Whether to isles enchanted
She bent her docile sails;

By what mystic mooring
She is held to-day, --
This is the errand of the eye
Out upon the bay.

1. The Brain Within Its Groove
2. Suspense
3. Unreturning
4. The Bee Is Not Afraid of Me
5. To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave

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