It Rises-passes-on Our South

Emily Dickinson

1023

It rises—passes—on our South
Inscribes a simple Noon—
Cajoles a Moment with the Spires
And infinite is gone—

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : It Sifts From Leaden Sieves
• Emily Dickinson : It Sounded As If The Streets Were Running
• Emily Dickinson : It Stole Along So Stealthy
• Emily Dickinson : It Struck Me Every Day
• Emily Dickinson : It Tossed-and Tossed
• Emily Dickinson : It Troubled Me As Once I Was
• Emily Dickinson : It Was A Grave, Yet Bore No Stone
• Emily Dickinson : It Was A Quiet Seeming Day-
• Emily Dickinson : It Was A Quiet Way-
• Emily Dickinson : It Was Given To Me By The Gods

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : It Might Be Lonelier
• Emily Dickinson : It Makes No Difference Abroad
• Emily Dickinson : It Knew No Medicine
• Emily Dickinson : It Knew No Lapse, Nor Diminuation
• Emily Dickinson : It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play
• Emily Dickinson : It Is An Honorable Thought,
• Emily Dickinson : It Is A Lonesome Glee
• Emily Dickinson : It Feels A Shame To Be Alive
• Emily Dickinson : It Dropped So Low In My Regard
• Emily Dickinson : It Don't Sound So Terrible-quite-as It Did