Emily Dickinson Poem

A drop fell on the apple tree

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A drop fell on the apple tree

Another on the roof;

A half a dozen kissed the eaves,

And made the gables laugh.

 

A few went out to help the brook,

That went to help the sea.

Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,

What necklaces could be!

 

The dust replaced in hoisted roa

The birds jocoser sung;

The sunshine threw his hat away,

The orchards spangles hung.

 

The breezes brought dejected

And bathed them in the glee;

The East put out a single flag,

And signed the fete away.

A feather from the Whippoorwill
A doubt if it be Us

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