The entire poem is one sentence—eighteen lines of subjunctive longing that never resolves into action. 'Could I but' is conditional, contrary-to-fact: she cannot ride indefinite, cannot be a bee. The syntax mirrors captivity: the thought spirals outward (meadows, peninsulas, nowhere) but the grammar keeps circling back to that opening impossibility.
Watch how the freedom fantasy escalates. It starts domestic—'visit only where I liked'—then becomes sexual ('flirt...marry'), then geographic ('dwell a little everywhere'), then criminal ('no police to follow'). By line 11 she's jumping peninsulas, and by line 15 she's 'rowing in nowhere'—the desire has moved beyond landscape into pure negation.
Then 'you' appears in line 12. After twelve lines of general freedom, suddenly there's a specific person to escape. The pronoun is a shock—who is 'you'? A suitor? A family member? God? Dickinson never says. The vagueness makes it worse: the captor could be anyone, which means the captivity is everywhere.
The final two lines reframe everything you've read. This wasn't whimsy—it was 'captives deem', the fantasies of someone 'tight in dungeons'. The bee's liberty exists only in the mind of the imprisoned. [CONTEXT: Dickinson rarely left her family home in Amherst after her early thirties, living in increasing seclusion. Whether this was chosen freedom or enforced captivity remains debated.]