I have a king who does not speak
So, wondering, thro' the hours meek
I trudge the day away, -
Half glad when it is night and sleep,
If, haply, thro' a dream to peep
In parlors shut by day.

And if I do, when morning comes,
It is as if a hundred drums
Did round my pillows roll,
And shouts fill all my childish sky,
And bells keep saying "victory"
From steeples in my soul!

-Emily Dickinson

ps. read it aloud