The Grass so Little has to do—
A Sphere of Simple Green—
With Flower bells as Chimes;
The Buds to decorate around
For all the World to see—

To have been going on
At Last, beneath the Sky—
To scream between the walls,
Sitting as if they were
Once atop the lead!

This is Poetry, it seems—
Giving Clarity a way
As if I were part of this,
So much—life’s left to share
This way—alone—

The Grass so Little has to do

• Emily Dickinson