Our little Kinsmen — after Rain
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| ←As Everywhere of Silver (884) | Our little Kinsmen — after Rain by 885 |
(886) These tested Our Horizon —→ |
Our little Kinsmen — after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.
A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
| Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list): | |
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