Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/185

 POEMS. 173


 * XLIX.


 * NOVEMBER.

ESIDES the autumn poets sing,
 * A few prosaic days

A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze.

A few incisive mornings, A few ascetic eves, — Gone Mr. Bryant's golden-rod, And Mr. Thomson's sheaves.

Still is the bustle in the brook, Sealed are the spicy valves; Mesmeric fingers softly touch The eyes of many elves.

Perhaps a squirrel may remain, My sentiments to share. Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind, Thy windy will to bear!