A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the churchyard rang;
And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Doubtless, he thought it meet of him
To say good-by to men.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- STEP lightly on this narrow spot
- Not any sunny tone
- Declaiming Waters None May Dread
- The Butterfly Obtains
- Silence is all we dread