“The morns are meeker than they were” by Emily Dickinson
The morns are meeker than they were—
The nuts are getting brown—
The berry’s cheek is plumper—
The Rose is out of town.
The Maple wears a gayer scarf—
The field a scarlet gown—
Lest I should be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.
Tomorrow I’m posting a review of a book that features Emily Dickinson’s poetry so this seemed like a good day to share another Emily Dickinson poem.
I always think of this poem as spring-like though, of course, that isn’t what she’s talking about at all. This is a solidly autumn poem. I like the rhythm here a lot–something Dickinson always does exceedingly well with her free verse. It’s just lovely.
Miss Print 