A Mine there is no Man would own
But must it be conferred,
Demeaning by exclusive wealth
A Universe beside --
Potosi never to be spent
But hoarded in the mind
What Misers wring their hands tonight
For Indies in the Ground!
A Mine there is no Man would own
But must it be conferred,
Demeaning by exclusive wealth
A Universe beside --
Potosi never to be spent
But hoarded in the mind
What Misers wring their hands tonight
For Indies in the Ground!
© Emily Dickinson