589 <br /> <br />The Night was wide, and furnished scant <br />With but a single Star— <br />That often as a Cloud it met— <br />Blew out itself—for fear— <br /> <br />The Wind pursued the little Bush— <br />And drove away the Leaves <br />November left—then clambered up <br />And fretted in the Eaves— <br /> <br />No Squirrel went abroad— <br />A Dog's belated feet <br />Like intermittent Plush, he heard <br />Adown the empty Street— <br /> <br />To feel if Blinds be fast— <br />And closer to the fire— <br />Her little Rocking Chair to draw— <br />And shiver for the Poor— <br /> <br />The Housewife's gentle Task— <br />How pleasanter—said she <br />Unto the Sofa opposite— <br />The Sleet—than May, no Thee—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-night-was-wide-and-furnished-scant/
