Update EmilyDickinsonCompleteWorks3.txt

EmilyDickinsonCompleteWorks3.txt

@@ -1209,171 +1209,3 @@ Round her chamber hums,
 Counts his nectars -- enters,
 And is lost in balms!
 
-III. NATURE.
-
-I.
-
-New feet within my garden go,
-New fingers stir the sod;
-A troubadour upon the elm
-Betrays the solitude.
-
-New children play upon the green,
-New weary sleep below;
-And still the pensive spring returns,
-And still the punctual snow!
-
-II.
-
-MAY-FLOWER.
-
-Pink, small, and punctual,
-Aromatic, low,
-Covert in April,
-Candid in May,
-
-Dear to the moss,
-Known by the knoll,
-Next to the robin
-In every human soul.
-
-Bold little beauty,
-Bedecked with thee,
-Nature forswears
-Antiquity.
-
-III.
-
-WHY?
-
-The murmur of a bee
-A witchcraft yieldeth me.
-If any ask me why,
-'T were easier to die
-Than tell.
-
-The red upon the hill
-Taketh away my will;
-If anybody sneer,
-Take care, for God is here,
-That's all.
-
-The breaking of the day
-Addeth to my degree;
-If any ask me how,
-Artist, who drew me so,
-Must tell!
-
-IV.
-
-Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?
-But I could never sell.
-If you would like to borrow
-Until the daffodil
-
-Unties her yellow bonnet
-Beneath the village door,
-Until the bees, from clover rows
-Their hock and sherry draw,
-
-Why, I will lend until just then,
-But not an hour more!
-
-V.
-
-The pedigree of honey
-Does not concern the bee;
-A clover, any time, to him
-Is aristocracy.
-
-VI.
-
-A SERVICE OF SONG.
-
-Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
-I keep it staying at home,
-With a bobolink for a chorister,
-And an orchard for a dome.
-
-Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
-I just wear my wings,
-And instead of tolling the bell for church,
-Our little sexton sings.
-
-God preaches, -- a noted clergyman, --
-And the sermon is never long;
-So instead of getting to heaven at last,
-I'm going all along!
-
-VII.
-
-The bee is not afraid of me,
-I know the butterfly;
-The pretty people in the woods
-Receive me cordially.
-
-The brooks laugh louder when I come,
-The breezes madder play.
-Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
-Wherefore, O summer's day?
-
-VIII.
-
-SUMMER'S ARMIES.
-
-Some rainbow coming from the fair!
-Some vision of the world Cashmere
-I confidently see!
-Or else a peacock's purple train,
-Feather by feather, on the plain
-Fritters itself away!
-
-The dreamy butterflies bestir,
-Lethargic pools resume the whir
-Of last year's sundered tune.
-From some old fortress on the sun
-Baronial bees march, one by one,
-In murmuring platoon!
-
-The robins stand as thick to-day
-As flakes of snow stood yesterday,
-On fence and roof and twig.
-The orchis binds her feather on
-For her old lover, Don the Sun,
-Revisiting the bog!
-
-Without commander, countless, still,
-The regiment of wood and hill
-In bright detachment stand.
-Behold! Whose multitudes are these?
-The children of whose turbaned seas,
-Or what Circassian land?
-
-IX.
-
-THE GRASS.
-
-The grass so little has to do, --
-A sphere of simple green,
-With only butterflies to brood,
-And bees to entertain,
-
-And stir all day to pretty tunes
-The breezes fetch along,
-And hold the sunshine in its lap
-And bow to everything;
-
-And thread the dews all night, like pearls,
-And make itself so fine, --
-A duchess were too common
-For such a noticing.
-
-And even when it dies, to pass
-In odors so divine,
-As lowly spices gone to sleep,
-Or amulets of pine.
-
-And then to dwell in sovereign barns,
-And dream the days away, --
-The grass so little has to do,
-I wish I were the hay!