Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/79

 III.

WHY?

HE murmur of a bee A witchcraft yieldeth me. If any ask me why, 'T were easier to die Than tell.

The red upon the hill Taketh away my will; If anybody sneer, Take care, for God is here, That's all.

The breaking of the day Addeth to my degree; If any ask me how, Artist, who drew me so, Must tell!