COBWEBS - The spider as an artist
The spider as an artist / Has never been employed
A DAY - I'll tell you how the sun rose
❦
I'll tell you how the sun rose, --
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun!
* * *
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
Have you got a brook in your little heart
Have you got a brook in your little heart, / Where bashful flowers blow,
The distance that the dead have gone
The distance that the dead have gone / Does not at first appear;
As imperceptibly as grief
As imperceptibly as grief / The summer lapsed away, --