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Sara A. Tremblay.

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Part One: "Life"

CXVII

I HAVE a king who does not speak;

So, wondering, thro’ the hours meek

I trudge the day away,—

Half glad when it is night and sleep,

If, haply, thro’ a dream to peep

In parlors shut by day.


And if I do, when morning comes,

It is as if a hundred drums

Did round my pillow roll,

And shouts fill all my childish sky,

And bells keep saying “victory”

From steeples in my soul!


And if I don’t, the little Bird

Within the Orchard is not heard,

And I omit to pray,

“Father, thy will be done” to-day,

For my will goes the other way,

And it were perjury!»

Emily Dickinson, in Complete Poems; 1924.

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["Quiet Village"; Pillow Talk à cabeceira.]