Emily Dickinson
I make His Crescent fill or lack
909

I make His Crescent fill or lack
His Nature is at Full
Or Quarter—as I signify
His Tides—do I control

He holds superior in the Sky
Or gropes, at my Command
Behind inferior Clouds—or round
A Mist's slow Colonnade

But since We hold a Mutual Disc
And front a Mutual Day
Which is the Despot, neither knows
Nor Whose—the Tyranny