In these terse, riddling lines, Dickinson speaks directly to Peru as if it were a personified treasure. Calling it “Brother of Ingots” and “Sister of Ophir” — the biblical land of gold — she frames the country as kin to immense material wealth. But the purchase of that wealth, she says, drained something human: “Empty the Hearts that purchased you.” Colonizers and fortune-seekers paid not just with money but with their own moral emptiness. The word “purchased” becomes chilling, suggesting a deal that hollowed out the buyers.
The second half shifts, bidding farewell to the old dream of easy riches: “Brother of Ophir / Bright Adieu.” Then the final line lands: “Honor, the shortest route / To you.” True access to Peru’s wealth, she implies, lies in honor, not exploitation — a path that was never taken. The mood is mournful and surgically precise, a lament for what was lost and a bitter rebuke to those who emptied their hearts for gold.