Dawn

WHEN night is almost done,
And sunrise grows so near
That we can touch the spaces,
It’s time to smooth the hair,
And get the dimples ready,
And wonder we could care
For that old faded midnight
That frightened but an hour.

First print Life XVII, 17
Johnson 347 | Franklin 679

■→IN POLISH

Text compared with the fascicle and prepared for publication by Teresa Pelka, available under any of the following licenses:
■Creative Commons License 4.0, BY-SA 3.0, and License 2.5.

■→Poems, first print by Higginson and Todd, page 31;
Thematic arrangement into two stanzas.

■Notes for Emily Dickinson’s poetry;
Poems one-by-one print and fascicle comparison,
■Resource for Emily Dickinson’s poetry;
■Google Drive, manuscript fascicles.