Emily Dickinson

The Wind Didn’T Come From The Orchard today

poem 316

The Wind didn’t come from the Orchard today Further than that Nor stop to play with the Hay Nor joggle a Hat He’s a transitive fellow very Rely on that If He leave a Bur at the door We know He has climbed a Fir But the Fir is Where Declare Were you ever there? If He brings Odors of Clovers And that is His business not Ours Then He has been with the Mowers Whetting away the Hours To sweet pauses of Hay His Way of a June Day If He fling Sand, and Pebble Little Boys Hats and Stubble With an occasional Steeple And a hoarse Get out of the way, I say, Who’d be the fool to stay? Would you Say Would you be the fool to stay?

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