My cocoon tightens, colors tease,
I'm feeling for the air;
A dim capacity for wings
Degrades the dress I wear.
A power of butterfly must be
The aptitude to fly,
Meadows of majesty concedes
And easy sweeps of sky.
So I must baffle at the hint
And cipher at the sign,
And make much blunder, if at last
I take the clew divine.
From The Chrysalis.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.