I had been hungry, all the Years
My Noon had Come—to dine
I trembling drew the Table near
And touched the Curious Wine

'Twas this on Tables I had seen
When turning, hungry, Home
I looked in Windows, for the Wealth
I could not hope—for Mine

I did not know the ample Bread
'Twas so unlike the Crumb
The Birds and I, had often shared
In Nature's—Dining Room

The Plenty hurt me—'twas so new
Myself felt ill—and odd
As Berry—of a Mountain Bush
Transplanted—to a Road

Nor was I hungry—so I found
That Hunger—was a way
Of Persons outside Windows
The Entering—takes away