Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/174

 162 POEMS.


 * XL.

HE sweeps with many-colored brooms,
 * And leaves the shreds behind;

Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond!

You dropped a purple ravelling in, You dropped an amber thread; And now you've littered all the East With duds of emerald!

And still she plies her spotted brooms, And still the aprons fly, Till brooms fade softly into stars — And then I come away.