I never told the buried gold
Upon the hill- that lies
I saw the sun – his plunder done
Crouch low to guard his prize.
He stood as near
As stood you here –
A pace had been between –
Did but a snake bisect the brake
My life had forfeit been.
That was a wondrous booty –
I hope ’twas honest gained.
Those were the fairest ingots
That ever kissed the spade!
Whether to keep the secret –
Whether to reveal –
Whether as I ponder
Kidd will sudden sail –
Could a shrewd advise me
We might e’en divide –
Should a shrewd betray me –
Atropos decide!
Emily Dickinson, 1858, Poem #11