Poems by Emily Dickinson: The Bat
Updated May 6, 2020 |
Infoplease Staff
The Bat
The Bat
The bat is dun with wrinkled wings
Like fallow article,
And not a song pervades his lips,
Or none perceptible.
Like fallow article,
And not a song pervades his lips,
Or none perceptible.
His small umbrella, quaintly halved,
Describing in the air
An arc alike inscrutable, —
Elate philosopher!
Describing in the air
An arc alike inscrutable, —
Elate philosopher!
Deputed from what firmament
Of what astute abode,
Empowered with what malevolence
Auspiciously withheld.
Of what astute abode,
Empowered with what malevolence
Auspiciously withheld.
To his adroit Creator
Ascribe no less the praise;
Beneficent, believe me,
His eccentricities.
Ascribe no less the praise;
Beneficent, believe me,
His eccentricities.
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