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—
