Maxioms by Emily Dickinson
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
read more
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
Anger as soon as fed is dead — 'Tis starving makes it fat.
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
read more
His labor is a chant,
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon!
