Through Lane It Lay-through Bramble
Emily Dickinson
9 Through lane it lay—through bramble— Through clearing and through wood— Banditti often passed us Upon the lonely road. The wolf came peering curious— The owl looked puzzled down— The serpent’s satin figure Glid stealthily along— The tempests touched our garments— The lightning’s poinards gleamed— Fierce from the Crag above us The hungry Vulture screamed— The satyr’s fingers beckoned— The valley murmured “Come”— These were the mates— This was the road Those children fluttered home.
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