975
The Mountain sat upon the Plain
In his tremendous Chair—
His observation omnifold,
His inquest, everywhere—
The Seasons played around his knees
Like Children round a sire—
Grandfather of the Days is He
Of Dawn, the Ancestor—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Of Course—i Prayed
- I Robbed The Woods
- If The Foolish, Call Them "Flowers"
- I Learned—at Least—what Home Could Be
- How The Waters Closed Above Him