AWEFULL

EMILY DICKINSON

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
Which 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.

1. Panglao sunrise, 2007. (taken using a Nokia N95 cam phone)
2. & 3. Selangor sunset, Malaysia. 2008. (taken using a P&S Olympus S740)
4. & 5. Boracay sunset, 2008. (Taken using a P&S Olumpus S740)

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

- EMILY DICKINSON