My nosegays are for captives;

by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

My nosegays are for captives;
  Dim, long-expectant eyes,
Fingers denied the plucking,
  Patient till paradise.

To such, if they should whisper
  Of morning and the moor,
They bear no other errand,
  And I, no other prayer.





Last updated June 21, 2015