170
Portraits are to daily faces
As an Evening West,
To a fine, pedantic sunshine—
In a satin Vest!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- If He Dissolve—then—there Is Nothing
- I Got So I Could Take His Name
- 'Tis Sunrise&Mdash;Little Maid&Mdash;Hast Thou
- Not "Revelation"&Mdash;'Tis&Mdash;That Waits
- I Think The Hemlock Likes To Stand