To interrupt His Yellow Plan
The Sun does not allow
Caprices of the Atmosphere -
And even when the Snow
Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy
Directly in His Eye -
Does not so much as turn His Head -
Busy with Majesty -
'Tis His to stimulate the Earth -
And magnetize the Sea -
And bind Astronomy, in place,
Yet Any passing by
Would deem Ourselves - the busier
As the minutest Bee
That rides - emits a Thunder -
A Bomb - to justify.
Emily Dickinson
Musicians wrestle everywhere -
All day - among the crowded air
I hear the silver strife -
And - waking - long before the morn -
Such transport breaks upon the town
I think it that "New life"...
No Notice gave She, but a Change -
No Message, but a Sigh -
For Whom, the Time did not suffice
That She should specify.
She was not warm, though Summer shone
Nor scrupulous of cold
Though Rime by Rime...
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel -
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill -
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose -
Partakes without alighting
And p...