I would not paint - a picture
I would not paint—a picture —
I'd rather be the One
It's bright impossibility
To dwell— delicious — on—
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare — celestial — stir —
Evokes so sweet a Torment—
Such sumptuous—Despair —
I would not talk, like Cornets —
I'd rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings —
And out, and easy on—
Through Villages of Ether —
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal —
The pier to my Pontoon —
Nor would I be a Poet—
It's finer own the Ear—
Enamored — impotent — content—
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
"I would not paint—a picture—" (#505) by Emily Dickinson. Public Domain.
