large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_3_dickinson_64kb_112
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_3_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
On a strange mob of panting trees, And fences fled away, And rivers where the houses ran The living looked that day. ON A STRANGE MOB OF PANTING TREES AND FENCES FLED AWAY AND RIVERS WHERE THE HOUSES RAN THE LIVING LOOK'D THAT DAY
nd was gone. Several of nature's people I know, and they know me; I feel for them a transport Of cordiality; But never met this fellow, Attended or alone, Without a tighter breathing, And zero at the bone. XXV. THE MUSHROOM. The mushroom is the elf of plants, At evening it is not; At morning in a truffled hut It stops upon a spot As if it tarried always; And yet its whole career Is shorter than a snake's delay, And fleeter than a tare. 'T is vegetation's juggler, The germ of alibi; Doth like a bubble antedate, And like a bubble hie. I feel as if the grass were pleased To have it intermit; The surreptitious scion Of summer's circumspect. Had nature any outcast face, Could she a son contemn, Had nature an Iscariot, That mushroom, -- it is him. XXVI. THE STORM. There came a wind like a bugle; It quivered through the grass, And a green chill upon the heat So ominous did pass We barred the windows and the doors As from an emerald ghost; The doom's electric moccason That very instant passed.  SECURE IT IT WRINKLED AND WAS GONE SEVERAL OF NATURE'S PEOPLE I KNOW AND THEY KNOW ME I FEEL FOR THEM A TRANSPORT OF CORDIALITY BUT NEVER MET THIS FELLOW ATTENDED OR ALONE WITHOUT A TIGHTER BREATHING AND ZERO AT THE BONE TWENTY FIVE THE MUSHROOM THE MUSHROOM IS THE ELF OF PLANTS AT EVENING IT IS NOT AT MORNING IN A TRUFFLED HUT IT STOPS UPON A SPOT AS IF IT TARRIED ALWAYS AND YET ITS WHOLE CAREER IS SHORTER THAN A SNAKE'S DELAY AND FLEETER THAN A TEAR TIS VEGETATION'S JUGGLER THE GERM OF ALIBI DOTH LIKE A BUBBLE ANTEDATE AND LIKE A BUBBLE HIGH I FEEL AS IF THE GRASS WERE PLEASED TO HAVE IT INTERMIT THE SURREPTITIOUS SCION OF SUMMER'S CIRCUMSPECT HAD NATURE ANY OUTCAST FACE COULD SHE A SON CONTEMN HAD NATURE AN ASCARIOT THAT MUSHROOM IT IS HIM TWENTY SIX THE STORM THERE CAME A WIND LIKE A BUGLE IT QUIVERED THROUGH THE GRASS AND A GREEN CHILL UPON THE HEAT SO OMINOUS DID PASS WE BARRED THE WINDOWS AND THE DOORS AS FROM AN EMERALD GHOST THE DOOM'S ELECTRIC MOCCASIN THAT VERY INSTANT PAST
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