“Your Riches Taught Me Poverty.” By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

  Your riches taught me poverty.
    Myself a millionnaire
    In little wealths, — as girls could boast, —
    Till broad as Buenos Ayre,

    You drifted your dominions
    A different Peru;
    And I esteemed all poverty,
    For life’s estate with you.

    Of mines I little know, myself,
    But just the names of gems, —
    The colors of the commonest;
    And scarce of diadems

    So much that, did I meet the queen,
    Her glory I should know:
    But this must be a different wealth,
    To miss it beggars so.

    I ‘m sure ‘t is India all day
    To those who look on you
    Without a stint, without a blame, —
    Might I but be the Jew!

    I ‘m sure it is Golconda,
    Beyond my power to deem, —
    To have a smile for mine each day,
    How better than a gem!

    At least, it solaces to know
    That there exists a gold,
    Although I prove it just in time
    Its distance to behold!

    It ‘s far, far treasure to surmise,
    And estimate the pearl
    That slipped my simple fingers through
    While just a girl at school!