The day came slow, till five o’clock
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies, or the light
A sudden musket spills
The purple could not keep the east,
The sunrise shook from fold,
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night,
The lady just unrolled.
The happy winds their timbrels took;
The birds, in docile rows,
Arranged themselves around their prince
(The wind is prince of those).
The orchard sparkled like a Jew, —
How mighty ‘t was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place,
The parlor of the day!
Poem by Emily Dickinson
Photo by Kayla Scott (Taken in Puerto Rico)
Nice combination of photo and poem.
Thanks for sharing,
I’m glad you like my photo! I took it in a cave in Puetro Rico, and it made me think of this poem.