They talk as slow as Legends grow
No mushroom is their mind
But foliage of sterility
Too stolid for the wind --
They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit
Predestined to unfold
The point with bland prevision
Portentously untold.
They talk as slow as Legends grow
No mushroom is their mind
But foliage of sterility
Too stolid for the wind --
They laugh as wise as Plots of Wit
Predestined to unfold
The point with bland prevision
Portentously untold.
© Emily Dickinson