The Day grew small.

The Day grew small, surrounded tight
By early, stooping Night —
The Afternoon in Evening deep
Its Yellow shortness dropt —
The Winds went out their martial ways
The Leaves obtained excuse —
November hung his Granite Hat
Upon a nail of Plush —

-Emily Dickinson

4 thoughts on “The Day grew small.

  1. I have not read this poem before, though I read a lot of Emily Dickinson. Very true. But just now I do not mind the shorter day because of Thanksgiving and then Advent and Christmas in the near future. I mind the shorter days more when they actually have begun to lengthen.

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    1. I feel the same way, Kristi…It’s after Christmas, in January and February, that the cold and dark seem to set in too deeply, and Spring seems a long way off. Maybe the effects of light deprivation are cumulative, too? I just know that it’s hard not to be a bit glum then.

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