Words are to me fond presents
I've been left across the years,
For hope and faith have never changed,
And death and pain and tears.
She would have found me ill-refined,
Although my heart soars free.
Oh, to have been as she was,
Imprisoned in liberty.
And mine the daring to create
A melancholy verse,
From reading melancholy thoughts
As ancient as the earth.
*Jotted thoughts from reading Emily Dickinson.
Adeline Foster
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-135/
