DYING
The sun kept setting, setting still; / No hue of afternoon
THE WAKING YEAR - A lady red upon the hill
❦
A lady red upon the hill
Her annual secret keeps;
A lady white within the field
In placid lily sleeps!
The tidy breezes with their brooms
Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who may expected be?
The neighbors do not yet suspect!
The woods exchange a smile --
Orchard, and buttercup, and bird --
In such a little while!
And yet how still the landscape stands,
How nonchalant the wood,
As if the resurrection
Were nothing very odd!
More poems by Emily Dickinson
A PROMPT, executive Bird is the Jay
A PROMPT, executive Bird is the Jay, / Bold as a Bailiff's hymn,
SURRENDER - Doubt me, my dim companion!
Doubt me, my dim companion! / Why, God would be content
To learn the transport by the pain
To learn the transport by the pain, / As blind men learn the sun;