Emily Dickinson Poems

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The Night was wide, and furnished scant
With but a single Star --
That often as a Cloud it met --
Blew out itself -- for fear --

The Wind pursued the little Bush --
And drove away the Leaves
November left -- then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves --

No Squirrel went abroad --
A Dog's belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, he heard
Adown the empty Street --

To feel if Blinds be fast --
And closer to the fire --
Her little Rocking Chair to draw --
And shiver for the Poor --

The Housewife's gentle Task --
How pleasanter -- said she
Unto the Sofa opposite --
The Sleet -- than May, no Thee --

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