THE GENTIAN WEAVES HER FRINGES
by: Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
- HE gentian weaves her fringes,
- The maple's loom is red.
- My departing blossoms
- Obiate parade.
-
- A brief, but patient illness,
- An hour to prepare;
- And one, below this morning,
- Is where the angels are.
-
- It was a short procession,--
- The bobolink was there,
- An aged bee addressed us,
- And then we knelt in prayer.
-
- We trust that she was willing,--
- We ask that we may be.
- Summer, sister, seraph,
- Let us go with thee!
-
- In the name of the bee
- And of the butterfly
- And of the breeze, amen!
MORE
POEMS BY EMILY DICKINSON |
|