English poetry

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Distrustful of the Gentian

Distrustful of the Gentian
And just to turn away,
The fluttering of her fringes
Child my perfidy
Weary for my
I will singing go
I shall not feel the sleet then
I shall not fear the snow.

Flees so the phantom meadow
Before the breathless Bee
So bubble brooks in deserts
On Ears that dying lie
Burn so the Evening Spires
To Eyes that Closing go
Hangs so distant Heaven
To a hand below.

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Poem Distrustful of the Gentian - Emily Dickinson