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I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching
Next to mine,
And summon them to drink;
Crackling with fever, they Essay,
I turn my brimming eyes away,
And come next hour to look.
The hands still hug the tardy glass-
The lips I would have cooled, alas-
Are so superfluous Cold-
I would as soon attempt to warm
The bosoms where the frost has lain
Ages beneath the mould-
Some other thirsty there may be
To whom this would have pointed me
Had it remained to speak-
And so I always bear the cup
If, haply, mine may be the drop
Some pilgrim thirst to slake-
If, haply, any say to me
“Unto the little, unto me,”
When I at last awake.
I Bring An Unaccustomed Wine
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: away, frost, long, cold, bring, thirsty, hug, speak, warm, drink, fever, beneath, glass, attempt, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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