Her breast is fit for pearls, | Affiliated Manuscripts

A 83-5/6 (Fr121B)

ca. 1859, summer

Ink | Fair copy | Bound (fascicle 5)

On wove, cream, lightly-ruled stationery

Retained in Dickinson's archive.

As Watchers hang opon the East –

As Beggars revel at a feast

By savory fancy spread –

As Brooks in Deserts, babble sweet

On Ear too far for the delight –

Heaven beguiles the tired.


As that same Watcher when the East

Opens the lid of Amethyst 

And lets the morning go –

That Beggar, when an honored Guest –

Those thirsty lips to flagons pressed –

Heaven to us,  if true.

Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a ′′Diver.′′
Her brow is fit for thrones –
But I had not a crest.
Her heart is fit for rest  + home –
I – a sparrow – build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.