I’m saying every day
“If I should be a Queen, tomorrow” —
I’d do this way —
And so I deck, a little,
If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious —
With “This was she —
Begged in the Market place —
Yesterday.”
Court is a stately place —
I’ve heard men say —
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup —
That not too plain —
Rank — overtake me —
And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing — rather high —
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify —
Put from my simple speech all plain word —
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket — just,
And but for the Bee —
Not in all the Meadow —
One accost me —
Better to be ready —
Than did next morn
Meet me in Aragon —
My old Gown — on —
And the surprised Air
Rustics — wear —
Summoned — unexpectedly —
To Exeter —
Literally, Dickinson plays courtly “dress up;” figuratively, she readies herself for heaven?