CONSECRATION - Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, / Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
AUTUMN - The morns are meeker than they were
❦
The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry's cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I'll put a trinket on.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
TO MARCH - Dear March, come in!
Dear March, come in! / How glad I am!
THE BAT - The bat is dun with wrinkled wings
The bat is dun with wrinkled wings / Like fallow article,
COBWEBS - The spider as an artist
The spider as an artist / Has never been employed