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Ah, Teneriffe!
Retreating Mountain!
Purples of Ages—pause for you—
Sunset—reviews her Sapphire Regiment—
Day—drops you her Red Adieu!
Still—Clad in your Mail of ices—
Thigh of Granite—and thew—of Steel—
Heedless—alike—of pomp—or parting
Ah, Teneriffe!
I'm kneeling—still—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I’ll Tell You How The Sun Rose
- Absence Disembodies—so Does Death
- Beauty&Mdash;Be Not Caused&Mdash;It Is
- An Everywhere Of Silver
- All I May, If Small
