Our Little Kinsmen—after Rain Poem by Emily Dickinson
Our Little Kinsmen—after Rain
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Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.
A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.
Thursday, January 1, 2004
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5/13/2025 11:36:53 AM # 1.0.0
