Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
Fame is a bee. / It has a song / It has a sting / Ah, too, it has a read more
Fame is a bee. / It has a song / It has a sting / Ah, too, it has a wing.
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
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Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.
Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.
