large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_3_dickinson_64kb_100
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_3_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
"'T is iris, sir, and aster, Anemone and bell, Batschia in the blanket red, And chubby daffodil." Meanwhile at many cradles Her busy foot she plied, Humming the quaintest lullaby That ever rocked a child. TIS IRIS SIR AND ASTOR ANEMONNE AND BELL BATHSHEA IN THE BLANKET RED AND CHUBBY DAFFODIL MEANWHILE AT MANY CRADLES HER BUSY FOOT SHE PLIED HUMMING THE QUAINTEST LULLABY THAT EVER ROCKED A CHILD
 delays he goes To some superior tree Without a single leaf, And shouts for joy to nobody But his seraphic self! IX. APRIL. An altered look about the hills; A Tyrian light the village fills; A wider sunrise in the dawn; A deeper twilight on the lawn; A print of a vermilion foot; A purple finger on the slope; A flippant fly upon the pane; A spider at his trade again; An added strut in chanticleer; A flower expected everywhere; An axe shrill singing in the woods; Fern-odors on untravelled roads, -- All this, and more I cannot tell, A furtive look you know as well, And Nicodemus' mystery Receives its annual reply. X. THE SLEEPING FLOWERS. "Whose are the little beds," I asked, "Which in the valleys lie?" Some shook their heads, and others smiled, And no one made reply. "Perhaps they did not hear," I said; "I will inquire again. Whose are the beds, the tiny beds So thick upon the plain?" "'T is daisy in the shortest; A little farther on, Nearest the door to wake the first, Little leontodon. U TO CHOOSE DISCRETION IN THE INTERVAL WITH GAY DELAYS HE GOES TO SOME SUPERIOR TREE WITHOUT A SINGLE LEAF AND SHOUTS FOR JOY TO NOBODY BUT HIS SERAPHIC SELF NINE APRIL AN ALTERED LOOK ABOUT THE HILLS A TYRIAN LIGHT THE VILLAGE FILLS A WIDER SUNRISE IN THE DAWN A DEEPER TWILIGHT ON THE LAWN A PRINT OF A VERMILION FOOT A PURPLE FINGER ON THE SLOPE A FLIPPANT FLY UPON THE PANE A SPIDER AT HIS TRADE AGAIN AN ADDED STRUT IN CHANTICLEER A FLOWER EXPECTED EVERYWHERE AN AXE SHRILL SINGING IN THE WOODS FERN ODORS ON UNTRAVELLED ROADS ALL THIS AND MORE I CANNOT TELL A FURTIVE LOOK YOU KNOW AS WELL AND NICODEMUS MYSTERY RECEIVES ITS ANNUAL REPLY TEN THE SLEEPING FLOWERS WHOSE ARE THE LITTLE BEDS I ASKED WHICH IN THE VALLEYS LIE SOME SHOOK THEIR HEADS AND OTHERS SMILED AND NO ONE MADE REPLY PERHAPS THEY DID NOT HEAR I SAID I WILL INQUIRE AGAIN WHOSE ARE THE BEDS THE TINY BEDS SO THICK UPON THE PLAIN TIS DAISY IN THE SHORTEST A LITTLE FARTHER ON NEAREST THE DOOR TO WAKE THE FIRST LITTLE LEONIDADON
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