The Moon Was But A Chin Of Gold

Emily Dickinson

737

The Moon was but a Chin of Gold
A Night or two ago—
And now she turns Her perfect Face
Upon the World below—

Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde—
Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn—
Her Eye unto the Summer Dew
The likest I have known—

Her Lips of Amber never part—
But what must be the smile
Upon Her Friend she could confer
Were such Her Silver Will—

And what a privilege to be
But the remotest Star—
For Certainty She take Her Way
Beside Your Palace Door—

Her Bonnet is the Firmament—
The Universe—Her Shoe—
The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt—
Her Dimities—of Blue—

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : The Morning After Woe
• Emily Dickinson : The Morns Are Meeker Than They Were
• Emily Dickinson : The Most Important Population
• Emily Dickinson : The Most Pathetic Thing I Do
• Emily Dickinson : The Most Triumphant Bird I Ever Knew Or Met
• Emily Dickinson : The Mountain Sat Upon The Plain
• Emily Dickinson : The Mountains Stood In Haze-
• Emily Dickinson : The Mountains-grow Unnoticed
• Emily Dickinson : The Murmur Of A Bee
• Emily Dickinson : The Murmuring Of Bees, Has Ceased

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : The Moon Upon Her Fluent Route
• Emily Dickinson : The Moon Is Distant From The Sea
• Emily Dickinson : The Months Have Ends-the Years-a Knot
• Emily Dickinson : The Mob Within The Heart
• Emily Dickinson : The Missing All-prevented Me
• Emily Dickinson : The Mind Lives On The Heart
• Emily Dickinson : The Merchant Of The Picturesque
• Emily Dickinson : The Martyr Poets-did Not Tell
• Emily Dickinson : The Manner Of Its Death
• Emily Dickinson : The Malay-took The Pearl