 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
186
[V. Morns like these we parted]
Morns like these we parted;
Noons like these she rose,
Fluttering first, then firmer,
To her fair repose.
Noons like these she rose,
Fluttering first, then firmer,
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it,
And 't was not for me;
She was mute from transport,
I, from agony!
And 't was not for me;
She was mute from transport,
I, from agony!
Till the evening, nearing,
One the shutters drew—
Quick! a sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
One the shutters drew—
Quick! a sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |