Poems by Emily Dickinson-3
XII.

Emily Dick

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High from the earth I heard a bird;

He trod upon the trees

As he esteemed them trifles,

And then he spied a breeze,

And situated softly

Upon a pile of wind

Which in a perturbation

Nature had left behind.

A joyous-going fellow

I gathered from his talk,

Which both of benediction

And badinage partook,

Without apparent burden,

I learned, in leafy wood

He was the faithful father

Of a dependent brood;

And this untoward transport

His remedy for care, —

A contrast to our respites.

How different we are!

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