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Poemsby Emily Dickinson

A Day

 I'll tell you how the sun rose, —
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
 The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
"That must have been the sun!"
         *  *  * 
 But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
 Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.