How sick – to wait – in any place – but thine –
I knew last night — when someone tried to twine –
Thinking — perhaps — that I looked tired — or alone —
Or breaking — almost — with unspoken pain —

And I turned — ducal –
That right — was thine –
One port — suffices — for a Brig – like mine –

Ours be the tossing — wild though the sea –
Rather than a Mooring — unshared by thee.
Ours be the Cargo — unladed — here –
Rather than the “spicy isles –”
And thou — not there —
– Emily Dickinson