His Feet Are Shod With Gauze

Emily Dickinson

916

His Feet are shod with Gauze—
His Helmet, is of Gold,
His Breast, a Single Onyx
With Chrysophrase, inlaid.

His Labor is a Chant—
His Idleness—a Tune—
Oh, for a Bee’s experience
Of Clovers, and of Noon!

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : His Heart Was Darker Than The Starless Night
• Emily Dickinson : His Little Hearse Like Figure
• Emily Dickinson : His Mansion In The Pool
• Emily Dickinson : His Mind Like Fabrics Of The East
• Emily Dickinson : His Mind Of Man, A Secret Makes
• Emily Dickinson : His Oriental Heresies
• Emily Dickinson : His Voice Decrepit Was With Joy-
• Emily Dickinson : Hope Is A Strange Invention-
• Emily Dickinson : Hope Is A Subtle Glutton-
• Emily Dickinson : Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : His Cheek Is His Biographer-
• Emily Dickinson : His Bill Is Clasped-his Eye Forsook-
• Emily Dickinson : His Bill An Auger Is
• Emily Dickinson : High From The Earth I Heard A Bird
• Emily Dickinson : Her-'last Poems'
• Emily Dickinson : Herein A Blossom Lies
• Emily Dickinson : Here, Where The Daisies Fit My Head
• Emily Dickinson : Her Sweet Weight On My Heart A Night
• Emily Dickinson : Her Sweet Turn To Leave The Homestead
• Emily Dickinson : Her Spirit Rose To Such A Height