Is It True, Dear Sue? - Poem by Emily Dickinson

218

Is it true, dear Sue?
Are there two?
I shouldn't like to come
For fear of joggling Him!

If I could shut him up
In a Coffee Cup,
Or tie him to a pin
Till I got in—
Or make him fast
To "Toby's" fist—
Hist! Whist! I'd come!