Tag: ick

SO bashful when I spied her,
So pretty, so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets,
Lest anybody find;

So breathless till I passed her, 5
So helpless when I turned
And bore her, struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the dingle,
For whom betrayed the dell, 10
Many will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!

~Emily Dickinson

I’ve been sitting here staring at this poem, trying to think of something nice to say about it, but it’s the end of a long day and I am all up in my feelings about consent. So I’m going to heed one of my mom’s favorite old sayings: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”