Emily Dickinson

The Name of It is ‘Autumn’

poem 656

The name of it is ‘Autumn’ The hue of it is Blood An Artery upon the Hill A Vein along the Road Great Globules in the Alleys And Oh, the Shower of Stain When Winds upset the Basin And spill the Scarlet Rain It sprinkles Bonnets far below It gathers ruddy Pools Then eddies like a Rose away Upon Vermilion Wheels

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