I had a guinea golden --

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I had a guinea golden --
Written by:Emily Dickinson (other works)
Poem #:23
Composed:
Published:
Volume:
Language:English
Type:Poetry
Form:
Rhyme:
Preceded by:All these my banners be. -22-
Succeeded by:There is a morn by men unseen -- -24-

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Version 1
I had a guinea golden -
I lost it in the sand -
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land -
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye -
That when I could not find it-
I sat me down to sigh.


I had a crimson Robin -
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted -
He - too - did fly away -
Time brought me other Robins -
Their ballads were the same -
Still, for my missing Troubadour
I kept the "house at hame".


I had a star in heaven -
One "Pleiad" was it's name -
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same -
And tho' the skies are crowded -
And all the night ashine -
I do not care about it -
Since none of them are mine -


My story has a moral -
I have a missing friend -
"Pleiad" it's name - and Robin -
And guinea in the sand -
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear -
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here -
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize opon his mind -
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.
Version 2
I had a guinea golden --
I lost it in the sand --
And tho' the sum was simple
And pounds were in the land --
Still, had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye --
That when I could not find it --
I sat me down to sigh.


I had a crimson Robin --
Who sang full many a day
But when the woods were painted,
He, too, did fly away --


Time brought me other Robins --
Their ballads were the same --
Still, for my missing Troubador
I kept the "house at hame."


I had a star in heaven --
One "Pleiad" was its name --
And when I was not heeding,
It wandered from the same.
And tho' the skies are crowded --
And all the night ashine --
I do not care about it --
Since none of them are mine.


My story has a moral --
I have a missing friend --
"Pleiad" its name, and Robin,
And guinea in the sand.
And when this mournful ditty
Accompanied with tear --
Shall meet the eye of traitor
In country far from here --
Grant that repentance solemn
May seize upon his mind --
And he no consolation
Beneath the sun may find.




Poetry by Emily Dickinson:
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