‘Tis my first night beneath the Sun
If I should spend it here —
Above him is too low a height
For his Barometer
Who Airs of expectation breathes
And takes the Wind at prime —
But Distance his Delights confides
To those who visit him —
‘Tis my first night beneath the Sun
If I should spend it here —
Above him is too low a height
For his Barometer
Who Airs of expectation breathes
And takes the Wind at prime —
But Distance his Delights confides
To those who visit him —
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Vintage Emily Dickinson! I love reading this poem, but find it difficult to completely decipher, especially with the syntax, and the unnatural placement of physical entities outside their usual positions in the “real scheme” of things, i.e., beneath the sun at night, and above the sun, etc. In some ways it is like reading Wallace Stevens—no need to always know exactly what the poem means, but can be enjoyed for the sheer beauty of its imaginative expressions.