Emily Dickinson

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

The Sun—just Touched The Morning - Poem by Emily Dickinson

232

The Sun—just touched the Morning—
The Morning—Happy thing—
Supposed that He had come to dwell—
And Life would all be Spring!

She felt herself supremer—
A Raised—Ethereal Thing!
Henceforth—for Her—What Holiday!
Meanwhile—Her wheeling King—
Trailed—slow—along the Orchards—
His haughty—spangled Hems—
Leaving a new necessity!
The want of Diadems!

The Morning—fluttered—staggered—
Felt feebly—for Her Crown—
Her unanointed forehead—
Henceforth—Her only One!


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Read poems about / on: spring, happy, sun, life



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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