(45) I NEVER told the buried gold Upon the hill that lies, I saw the sun, his plunder done, Crouch low to guard his prize. He stood as near, as stood you here, A pace had been between— Did but a snake bisect the brake, My life had forfeit been. That was a wondrous booty, I hope ’t was honest gained— Those were the finest ingots That ever kissed the spade. Whether to keep the secret— Whether to reveal— Whether, while I ponder Kidd may sudden sail— Could a Shrewd advise me We might e’en divide— Should a Shrewd betray me— “Atropos” decide!
-Emily Dickinson