Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/170

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T HE wind begun to rock the grass With threatening tunes and low, — He flung a menace at the earth, A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees And started all abroad; The dust did scoop itself like hands And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets, The thunder hurried slow; The lightning showed a yellow beak, And then a livid claw.