Explore "The Moon" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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 blond; / Her cheek like beryl stone; / 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 bestow / Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be / But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass / Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament, / The universe her shoe, / The stars the trinkets at her belt, / Her dimities of blue.