If you show patience, I'll rid you of this virtue.
If you fall asleep, I'll rub the sleep from your eyes.
If you become a mountain, I'll melt you in fire.
And if you become an ocean, I'll drink all your water.
by Emily Dickinson
687
I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows-but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket-worn by faded Child-
Confronting eyes long-comforted-
Blisters the Adamant!