Emily Dickinson

My Cocoon tightens — Colors tease —

I’m feeling for the Air —

A dim capacity for Wings

Demeans the Dress I wear —

A power of Butterfly must be —

The Aptitude to fly

Meadows of Majesty implies

And easy Sweeps of Sky —

So I must baffle at the Hint

And cipher at the Sign

And make much blunder, if at least

I take the clue divine —