XXII
A Day
I’ll tell you how the sun rose,—A ribbon at a time.The steeples swam in amethyst,The news like squirrels ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,The bobolinks begun.Then I said softly to myself,“That must have been the sun!”
But how he set, I know not.There seemed a purple stileWhich little yellow boys and girlsWere climbing all the while
Till when they reached the other side,A dominie in grayPut gently up the evening bars,And led the flock away.