Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/90

 XII.

PSALM OF THE DAY.

SOMETHING in a summer's day, As slow her flambeaux burn away, Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon,— An azure depth, a wordless tune, Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night A something so transporting bright, I clap my hands to see;

Then veil my too inspecting face, Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace Flutter too far for me.

The wizard-fingers never rest, The purple brook within the breast Still chafes its narrow bed;