Author Emily Dickinson 251 Over the fence— Strawberries—grow—Over the fence— I could climb—if I tried, I know— Berries are nice! But—if I stained my Apron— God would certainly scold! Oh, dear,—I guess if He were a Boy— He'd—climb—if He could! Tags god Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments