Emily Dickinson

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

The Sun Kept Stooping—stooping - Poem by Emily Dickinson

152

The Sun kept stooping—stooping—low!
The Hills to meet him rose!
On his side, what Transaction!
On their side, what Repose!

Deeper and deeper grew the stain
Upon the window pane—
Thicker and thicker stood the feet
Until the Tyrian

Was crowded dense with Armies—
So gay, so Brigadier—
That I felt martial stirrings
Who once the Cockade wore—

Charged from my chimney corner—
But Nobody was there!


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Read poems about / on: rose, sun



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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