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18.8.09

Hay..


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.
Emily Dickinson.

Painting ~Hay making~Edward Wilkins Waite.Click to enlarge..

2 comments:

Castles Crowns and Cottages said...

Dearest Dutchess,
What a lovely poem...thank you for your kind words to me. Enjoy the beauty that you have created in your corner of the world; you give so much to us, I do hope you enjoy it yourself. Anita

GrandmaK said...

Today is a wonderful day to have a visit with "Emily." The sun is shining and the grass is so green after last night's rain! Thank you!! Cathy