Poetry Archives

304

The 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 abroad
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 ’twas—to be
A Guest in this stupendous place—
The Parlor—of the Day—