Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/127

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HE day came slow, till five o'clock,
 * Then sprang before the hills

Like hindered rubies, or the light A sudden musket spills.

The purple could not keep the east, The sunrise shook from fold, Like breadths of topaz, packed a night, The lady just unrolled.

The happy winds their timbrels took; The birds, in docile rows, Arranged themselves around their prince (The wind is prince of those).

The orchard sparkled like a Jew,— How mighty 't was, to stay A guest in this stupendous place, The parlor of the day!