Poetic Divination

Sonnet 318 by Emily Dickinson

I’ll tell you how the Sun rose–
A Ribbon at a time.
The Steeples swam in Amethyst,
The news, like Squirrels ran–
The Hills untied their Bonnets–
The Bobolinks–begun–
Then I said softly to myself–
“That must have been the Sun!”
But how he set–I know not–
There seemed a purple stile
That little Yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while–
Till when they reached the other side,
A Dominie in Gray–
Put gently up the evening Bars–
And led the flock away–