505 <br /> <br />I would not paint—a picture— <br />I'd rather be the One <br />Its bright impossibility <br />To dwell—delicious—on— <br />And wonder how the fingers feel <br />Whose rare—celestial—stir— <br />Evokes so sweet a Torment— <br />Such sumptuous—Despair— <br /> <br />I would not talk, like Cornets— <br />I'd rather be the One <br />Raised softly to the Ceilings— <br />And out, and easy on— <br />Through Villages of Ether— <br />Myself endued Balloon <br />By but a lip of Metal— <br />The pier to my Pontoon— <br /> <br />Nor would I be a Poet— <br />It's finer—own the Ear— <br />Enamored—impotent—content— <br />The License to revere, <br />A privilege so awful <br />What would the Dower be, <br />Had I the Art to stun myself <br />With Bolts of Melody!<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-would-not-paint-a-picture/
