Why? By Emily Dickinson

    The murmur of a bee
    A witchcraft yieldeth me.
    If any ask me why,
    ‘T were easier to die
    Than tell.

    The red upon the hill
    Taketh away my will;
    If anybody sneer,
    Take care, for God is here,
    That’s all.

    The breaking of the day
    Addeth to my degree;
    If any ask me how,
    Artist, who drew me so,
    Must tell!