Longing. By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

I envy seas whereon he rides,
    I envy spokes of wheels
    Of chariots that him convey,
    I envy speechless hills

    That gaze upon his journey;
    How easy all can see
    What is forbidden utterly
    As heaven, unto me!

    I envy nests of sparrows
    That dot his distant eaves,
    The wealthy fly upon his pane,
    The happy, happy leaves

    That just abroad his window
    Have summer’s leave to be,
    The earrings of Pizarro
    Could not obtain for me.

    I envy light that wakes him,
    And bells that boldly ring
    To tell him it is noon abroad, —
    Myself his noon could bring,

    Yet interdict my blossom
    And abrogate my bee,
    Lest noon in everlasting night
    Drop Gabriel and me.