The Hemlock
Emily Dickinson
1830 to 1886
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I think the hemlock likes to stand
Upon a of snow;
It suits his own austerity,
And satisfies awe
That men must slake in wilderness,
Or in desert cloy, —
An instinct for the hoar, the bald,
Lapland's necessity.
The hemlock's nature thrives on cold;
The of northern winds
Is sweetest nutriment to him,
His Norwegian wines.
To satin races he is nought;
But on the Don
Beneath his tabernacles play,
And Dnieper run.