by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < The Tulip
The way I read a letter ‘s this > > >
The Walking Year
A lady red upon the hill
Her annual secret keeps;
A lady white within the field
In placid lily sleeps!
The tidy breezes with their brooms
Sweep vale, and hill, and tree!
Prithee, my pretty housewives!
Who may expected be?
The neighbors do not yet suspect!
The woods exchange a smile —
Orchard, and buttercup, and bird —
In such a little while!
And yet how still the landscape stands,
How nonchalant the wood,
As if the resurrection
Were nothing very odd!
< < < The Tulip
The way I read a letter ‘s this > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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