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 from fold,
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.
The happy winds their timbrels took;
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, --
The orchard sparkled like a Jew, --
How mighty 't was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day!
Emily Dickinson
4 comments:
i love the new heading! where did you find it? makes our pages look ordinary:)
Read the previous post, Mrs. Holloway. :)
"The orchard sparkled like a Jew"
Can't add much to that!
I wondered if anyone would comment on that. The version I remember from my high school lit book was "The orchard sparkled like a jewel" but when I googled it every website I looked at had this version.
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