The Sun kept stooping — stooping — low!
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| ←Mute thy Coronation — (151) | The Sun kept stooping — stooping — low! by 152 |
(153) Dust is the only Secret —→ |
The Sun kept stooping — stooping — low!
The Hills to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On their side, what Repose!
Deeper and deeper grew the stain
Upon the window pane —
Thicker and thicker stood the feet
Until the Tyrian
Was crowded dense with Armies —
So gay, so Brigadier —
That I felt martial stirrings
Who once the Cockade wore —
Charged from my chimney corner —
But Nobody was there!
| Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list): | |
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