Em Trânsito

Tho' I get home how late -- how late
So I get home - 'twill compensate
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me
When Night -- descending -- dumb -- and dark
They hear my unexpected knock
Transporting must the moment be
Brewed from decades of Agony!

To think just how the fire will burn
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

Emily Dickinson - Tho' I get home how late -- how late