Poem: “The Moon Was but A Chin of Gold,” by Emily Dickinson

The Moon was but a 

Chin of Gold 

A Night or two ago – 

And now she turns 

Her perfect Face 

Upon the World below – 

Her Forehead is of 

Amplest Blonde – 

Her Cheek – 

a Beryl hewn – 

Her Eye unto the 

Summer Dew 

The likest I have known – 

Her Lips of 

Amber never part – 

But what must be the smile 

Upon Her Friend she would confer 

Were such Her 

Silver Will – 

And what a privilege to be 

But the remotest Star – 

For Certainty 

She take Her Way 

Beside Your Palace Door – 

Her Bonnet is the 

Firmament – 

The Universe – 

Her Shoe – 

The Stars – 

the Trinkets at 

Her Belt – 

 Her Dimities – 

of Blue –