Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/138

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NE of the ones that Midas touched, Who failed to touch us all, Was that confiding prodigal, The blissful oriole.

So drunk, he disavows it With badinage divine; So dazzling, we mistake him For an alighting mine.

A pleader, a dissembler, An epicure, a thief,— Betimes an oratorio, An ecstasy in chief;

The Jesuit of orchards, He cheats as he enchants Of an entire attar For his decamping wants.