Angels, in the Early Morning, by Emily Dickinson

Angels, in the Early Morning

Angels, in the early morning

May be seen the Dews among,

Stooping—plucking—smiling&m dash;flying—

Do the Buds to them belong?

Angels, when the sun is hottest

May be seen the sands among,

Stooping—plucking—sighing&m dash;flying—

Parched the flowers they bear along.

319 Of Bronze—and Blaze— The North—tonight— So adequate—it forms— So preconcerted with itself—

694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—

182 If I shouldn’t be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.

XXIII A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw.

157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—

We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…

350 They leave us with the Infinite. But He—is not a man— His fingers are the size of fists— His fists, the size of men—

781 To wait an Hour—is long— If Love be just beyond— To wait Eternity—is short— If Love reward the end—

The brain within its groove Runs evenly and true; But let a splinter swerve, ‘T were easier for you To put the water back

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.

141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.

452 The Malay—took the Pearl— Not—I—the Earl— I—feared the Sea—too much Unsanctified—to touch—

463 I live with Him — I see His face… I go no more away For Visitor — or Sundown — Death's single privacy