A DAY.
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.