The waters chased him as he fled,
Not daring look behind --
A billow whispered in his Ear,
"Come home with me, my friend --
My parlor is of shriven glass,
My pantry has a fish
For every palate in the Year" --
To this revolting bliss
The object floating at his side
Made no distinct reply
-Emily Dickinson (courtesy www.famouspoetsandpoems.com)
You must update more often... Especially the poetry kind of posts :)
ReplyDelete@ girija...if only i had the time :) there are a few other poems...mostly my ambivalent uninspired amateurish rants...
ReplyDelete