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Emily Dickinson - One Year ago—jots what?
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One Year ago—jots what?
God—spell the word! I—can`t—
Was`t Grace? Not that—
Was`t Glory? That—will do—
Spell slower—Glory—

Such Anniversary shall be—
Sometimes—not often—in Eternity—
When farther Parted, than the Common Woe—
Look—feed upon each other`s faces—so—
In doubtful meal, if it be possible 
Their Banquet`s true—

I tasted—careless—then—
I did not know the Wine 
Came once a World—Did you? 
Oh, had you told me so—
This Thirst would blister—easier—now—
You said it hurt you—most—
Mine—was an Acorn`s Breast—
And could not know how fondness grew 
In Shaggier Vest—
Perhaps—I couldn`t—
But, had you looked in—
A Giant—eye to eye with you, had been—
No Acorn—then—

So—Twelve months ago—
We breathed—
Then dropped the Air—
Which bore it best? 
Was this—the patientest—
Because it was a Child, you know—
And could not value—Air? 

If to be "Elder"—mean most pain—
I`m old enough, today, I`m certain—then—
As old as thee—how soon? 
One—Birthday more—or Ten? 
Let me—choose! 
Ah, Sir, None!
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