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Poems by Emily Dickinson | ||
110
[VIII. A murmur in the trees to note]
A murmur in the trees to note,
Not loud enough for wind;
A star not far enough to seek,
Nor near enough to find;
Not loud enough for wind;
A star not far enough to seek,
Nor near enough to find;
A long, long yellow on the lawn,
A hubbub as of feet;
Not audible, as ours to us,
But dapperer, more sweet;
A hubbub as of feet;
Not audible, as ours to us,
But dapperer, more sweet;
A hurrying home of little men
To houses unperceived,—
All this, and more, if I should tell,
Would never be believed.
To houses unperceived,—
All this, and more, if I should tell,
Would never be believed.
Of robins in the trundle bed
How many I espy
Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings,
Although I heard them try!
How many I espy
Whose nightgowns could not hide the wings,
Although I heard them try!
111
But then I promised ne'er to tell;
How could I break my word?
So go your way and I'll go mine,—
No fear you'll miss the road.
How could I break my word?
So go your way and I'll go mine,—
No fear you'll miss the road.
Poems by Emily Dickinson | ||