He parts Himself — like Leaves —

He parts Himself — like Leaves —
And then — He closes up —
Then stands upon the Bonnet
Of Any Buttercup —

And then He runs against
And oversets a Rose —
And then does Nothing —
Then away upon a Jib — He goes —

And dangles like a Mote
Suspended in the Noon —
Uncertain — to return Below —
Or settle in the Moon —

What come of Him — at Night —
The privilege to say
Be limited by Ignorance —
What come of Him — That Day —

The Frost — possess the World —
In Cabinets — be shown —
A Sepulchre of quaintest Floss —
An Abbey — a Cocoon —

Emily Dickinson

Bag Moth

He parts Himself — like Leaves —
And then — He closes up —
Then stands upon the Bonnet
Of Any Buttercup —

And then He runs against
And upsets a Rose —
And then does Nothing —
Then He goes away upon a Sail —

And hangs like a Dust
Suspended in the Noon —
It’s uncertain for him to return Below —
Or settle in the Moon —

What result from Him — at Night —
The privilege to say
Be limited by Ignorance —
What result from Him — That Day —

When the Frost filled the World —
In Cell — be shown —
A Sepulchre of strange fiber —
An Abbey for a Cocoon —