Daily Emily Dickinson

poems | source | simple

· · ·

                X.

A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.

If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh, -- no vehicle
Bears me along that way.


            
Monday, May 04, 2026
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