Could I but ride indefinite,
As doth the meadow-bee,
And visit only where I liked,
And no man visit me,
And flirt all day with buttercups,
And marry whom I may,
And dwell a little everywhere,
Or better, run away
With no police to follow,
Or chase me if I do,
Till I should jump peninsulas
To get away from you, —
I said, but just to be a bee
Upon a raft of air,
And row in nowhere all day long,
And anchor off the bar,–
What liberty! So captives deem
Who tight in dungeons are.
Read all of Emily Dickinson's poems · About Emily Dickinson
More by Emily Dickinson
Write poetry? Submit your poem to Poetry Catalog