Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

The Grass so little has to do


The Grass so little has to do –
A Sphere of simple Green –
With only Butterflies to brood
And Bees to entertain –
And stir all day to pretty Tunes
The Breezes fetch along –
And hold the Sunshine in its lap
And bow to everything –

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
And make itself so fine
A Duchess were too common
For such a noticing –

And even when it dies – to pass
In Odors so divine –
Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
Or Spikenards, perishing –

And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
And dream the Days away,
The Grass so little has to do
I wish I were a Hay –

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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  • Rumeysa Acar (12/25/2013 10:10:00 AM)

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    The Grass so little has to do



    The Grass so little has to do –
    A Sphere of simple Green –
    With only Butterflies to brood
    And Bees to entertain –
    And stir all day to pretty Tunes
    The Breezes fetch along –
    And hold the Sunshine in its lap
    And bow to everything –

    And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –
    And make itself so fine
    A Duchess were too common
    For such a noticing –

    And even when it dies – to pass
    In Odors so divine –
    Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –
    Or Spikenards, perishing –

    And then, in Sovereign Barns to dwell –
    And dream the Days away,
    The Grass so little has to do
    I wish I were a Hay – (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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