I had been hungry, all the Years— My Noon had Come—to dine— I trembling drew the Table near— And touched the Curious Wine— `Twas this on Tables I had seen— When turning, hungry, Home I looked in Windows, for the Wealth I could not hope—for Mine— I did not know the ample Bread— `Twas so unlike the Crumb The Birds and I, had often shared In Nature`s—Dining Room— The Plenty hurt me—`twas so new— Myself felt ill—and odd— As Berry—of a Mountain Bush— Transplanted—to a Road— Nor was I hungry—so I found That Hunger—was a way Of Persons outside Windows— The Entering—takes away—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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