Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu/134

 120 POEMS.

��XVI. THE WIND.

TT 's like the light, It's like the bee, A dateless melody.
 * A fashionless delight

It 's like the woods, Private like breeze,

Phraseless, yet it stirs The proudest trees.

It 's like the morning, Best when it 's done,

The everlasting clocks Chime noon.

�� �