Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
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!
Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 3:22 AM | Viewed: 6967 times
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Emily Dickinson
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