Emily Dickinson
The day came slow, till five o’ clock
The day came slow, till five o'clock
Then sprang before the hills
Like hindered rubies, or the light
A sudden musket spills

The purple could not keep the east
The sunrise shook from fold
Like breadths of topaz, packed a night
The lady just unrolled

The happy winds their timbrels took
The birds, in docile rows
Arranged themselves around their prince
(The wind is prince of those)

The orchard sparkled like a Jew,
How mighty 't was, to stay
A guest in this stupendous place
The parlor of the day!