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 …
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