Morns Like These We Parted

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Title:     Morns Like These We Parted
Author: Emily Dickinson [More Titles by Dickinson]

Morns like these we parted;
Noons like these she rose,
Fluttering first, then firmer,
To her fair repose.

Never did she lisp it,
And 't was not for me;
She was mute from transport,
I, from agony!

Till the evening, nearing,
One the shutters drew --
Quick! a sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew!

[The end]
Emily Dickinson's poem: Morns Like These We Parted

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