Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/91

 Still rears the East her amber flag, Guides still the sun along the crag His caravan of red,

Like flowers that heard the tale of dews, But never deemed the dripping prize Awaited their low brows

Or bees, that thought the summer's name Some rumor of delirium No summer could for them;

Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred By tropic hint,—some travelled bird Imported to the wood;

Or wind's bright signal to the ear, Making that homely and severe, Contented, known, before

The heaven unexpected came, To lives that thought their worshipping A too presumptuous psalm.