627 <br /> <br />The Tint I cannot take—is best— <br />The Color too remote <br />That I could show it in Bazaar— <br />A Guinea at a sight— <br /> <br />The fine—impalpable Array— <br />That swaggers on the eye <br />Like Cleopatra's Company— <br />Repeated—in the sky— <br /> <br />The Moments of Dominion <br />That happen on the Soul <br />And leave it with a Discontent <br />Too exquisite—to tell— <br /> <br />The eager look—on Landscapes— <br />As if they just repressed <br />Some Secret—that was pushing <br />Like Chariots—in the Vest— <br /> <br />The Pleading of the Summer— <br />That other Prank—of Snow— <br />That Cushions Mystery with Tulle, <br />For fear the Squirrels—know. <br /> <br />Their Graspless manners—mock us— <br />Until the Cheated Eye <br />Shuts arrogantly—in the Grave— <br />Another way—to see—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-tint-i-cannot-take-is-best/
