I had been hungry all the years- <br />My noon had come, to dine- <br />I, trembling, drew the table near <br />And touched the curious wine. <br /> <br />'T was this on tables I had seen <br />When turning, hungry, lone, <br />I looked in windows, for the wealth <br />I could not hope to own. <br /> <br />I did not know the ample bread, <br />'T was so unlike the crumb <br />The birds and I had often shared <br />In Nature's dining-room. <br /> <br />The plenty hurt me, 't was so new,-- <br />Myself felt ill and odd, <br />As berry of a mountain bush <br />Transplanted to the road. <br /> <br />Nor was I hungry; so I found <br />That hunger was a way <br />Of persons outside windows, <br />The entering takes away.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-had-been-hungry-all-the-years/
