A poem by Emily Dickinson

I watched the Moon around the House
Until upon a Pane --
She stopped -- a Traveller's privilege -- for Rest --
And there upon

I gazed -- as at a stranger --
The Lady in the Town
Doth think no incivility
To lift her Glass -- upon --

But never Stranger justified
The Curiosity
Like Mine -- for not a foot -- nor Hand --
Nor Formula -- had she --

But like a Head -- a Guillotine
Slid carelessly away --
Did independent, Amber --
Sustain her in the sky --

Or like a Stemless Flower --
Upheld in rolling Air
By finer Gravitations --
Than bind Philosopher --

No Hunger -- had she -- nor an Inn --
Her Toilette -- to suffice --
Nor Avocation -- nor concern
For little Mysteries

As harass us -- like Life -- and Death --
And Afterward -- or Nay --
But seemed engrossed to Absolute --
With Shining -- and the Sky --

The privilege to scrutinize
Was scarce upon my Eyes
When, with a Silver practise --
She vaulted out of Gaze --

And next -- I met her on a Cloud --
Myself too far below
To follow her superior Road --
Or it's advantage -- Blue --