Your Riches -- taught me -- Poverty.
Myself -- a Millionaire
In little Wealths, as Girls could boast
Till broad as Buenos Ayre --

You drifted your Dominions --
A Different Peru --
And I esteemed All Poverty
For Life's Estate with you --

Of Mines, I little know -- myself --
But just the names, of Gems --
The Colors of the Commonest --
And scarce of Diadems --

So much, that did I meet the Queen --
Her Glory I should know --
But this, must be a different Wealth --
To miss it -- beggars so --

I'm sure 'tis India -- all Day --
To those who look on You --
Without a stint -- without a blame,
Might I -- but be the Jew --

I'm sure it is Golconda --
Beyond my power to deem --
To have a smile for Mine -- each Day,
How better, than a Gem!

At least, it solaces to know
That there exists -- a Gold --
Altho' I prove it, just in time
Its distance -- to behold --

Its far -- far Treasure to surmise --
And estimate the Pearl --
That slipped my simple fingers through --
While just a Girl at School.

Poet: Emily Dickinson
Poem: 299. Your Riches -- taught me -- Poverty.
Volume: Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Year: Published/Written in 1955

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