The Crickets sang
And set the Sun
And Workmen finished one by one
Their Seam the Day upon.

The low Grass loaded with the Dew
The Twilight stood, as Strangers do
With Hat in Hand, polite and new
To stay as if, or go.

A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came,
A Wisdom, without Face, or Name,
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so the Night became.

Added: Jan 9 2004 | Viewed: 2322 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Emily Dickinson
Poem: 1104. The Crickets sang
Volume: Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Year: Published/Written in 1955
Poem of the Day: May 19 2004
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