She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms

By Emily Dickinson

She sweeps with many-colored brooms …
And leaves the shreds behind …
Oh housewife in the evening west …
Come back, and dust the pond!
You dropped a purple ravelling in …
You dropped an amber thread …
And how you’ve littered all the east
With duds of emerald!

And still, she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars …
And then I come away …