Home ⇒ 📌Emily Dickinson ⇒ The Angle of a Landscape
The Angle of a Landscape
The Angle of a Landscape
That every time I wake
Between my Curtain and the Wall
Upon an ample Crack
Like a Venetian waiting
Accosts my open eye
Is just a Bough of Apples
Held slanting, in the Sky
The Pattern of a Chimney
The Forehead of a Hill
Sometimes a Vane’s Forefinger
But that’s Occasional
The Seasons shift my Picture
Upon my Emerald Bough,
I wake to find no Emeralds
Then Diamonds which the Snow
From Polar Caskets fetched me
The Chimney and the Hill
And just the Steeple’s finger
These never stir at all
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