 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
90
[XVIII. Angels in the early morning]
Angels in the early morning
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
May be seen the dews among,
Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:
Do the buds to them belong?
Angels when the sun is hottest
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
May be seen the sands among,
Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;
Parched the flowers they bear along.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |