Emily Dickinson

The Sun Kept Stooping stooping

poem 152

The Sun kept stooping stooping low! The Hills to meet him rose! On his side, what Transaction! On their side, what Repose! Deeper and deeper grew the stain Upon the window pane Thicker and thicker stood the feet Until the Tyrian Was crowded dense with Armies So gay, so Brigadier That I felt martial stirrings Who once the Cockade wore Charged from my chimney corner But Nobody was there!

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