God gave a loaf to every bird,  

But just a crumb to me;

I dare not eat it, though I starve,—         

My poignant luxury        

To own it, touch it, prove the feat                

That made the pellet mine,—   

Too happy in my sparrow chance             

For ampler coveting.     

 

It might be famine all around,   

I could not miss an ear,         

Such plenty smiles upon my board,        

My garner shows so fair.             

I wonder how the rich may feel,—          

An Indiaman—an Earl? 

I deem that I with but a crumb     

Am sovereign of them all.

-Emily Dickinson