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Poemsby Emily Dickinson

The Rat
A Thunder-Storm

XXXVI

Frequently the woods are pink,
Frequently are brown;
Frequently the hills undress
Behind my native town.
Oft a head is crested
I was wont to see,
And as oft a cranny
Where it used to be.
And the earth, they tell me,
On its axis turned, —
Wonderful rotation
By but twelve performed!