Explore "The Sun's Wooing" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The sun just touched the morning; / The morning, happy thing, / Supposed that he had come to dwell, / And life would be all spring.
She felt herself supremer, -- / A raised, ethereal thing; / Henceforth for her what holiday!
Meanwhile, her wheeling king
Trailed slow along the orchards / His haughty, spangled hems, / Leaving a new necessity, -- / The want of diadems!
The morning fluttered, staggered, / Felt feebly for her crown, -- / Her unanointed forehead / Henceforth her only one.