The steeples swam in amethyst, the news like squirrels swam.
I must go in, the fog is rising.
Those who lift their hats shall see Nature as devout do God.
That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.
These are the days when birds come back, a very few, a Bird or two, to take a backward look.
The older I grow the more do I love spring and spring flowers. Is it so with you?