A Shady Friend For Torrid Days

Posted byRobinPosted inpoetryTags:, , ,

by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
A shady friend for torrid days
Is easier to find
Than one of higher temperature
For frigid hour of mind.

The vane a little to the east
Scares muslin souls away;
If broadcloth breasts are firmer
Than those of organdy,

Who is to blame? The weaver?
Ah! the bewildering thread!
The tapestries of paradise!
So notelessly are made!

Published by Robin

I'm a retired journalist who still has stories to tell. This seems to be a good place to tell them.

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