Beauty crowds me till I die,
Beauty, mercy on my soul!
All the restless Beauty,
Drifting through the skies –

Her golden shafts above me,
The meadow flowers below –
The waterfall, so tranquil,
I scarce can bear her grace.

Let the River dance in wild,
Open wide my shores of night,
Let the Stars, with pulses bright
Guide my journey, to thy sight.

I look beyond horizons
And into Flowering lands –
A world of purple morning
Where golden Beauty stands.

“Beauty crowds me till I die”

• Emily Dickinson