The wizard fingers never rest...

LXIII

Emily Dickinson

A something in a summer's Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer's noon
A depth ? an Azure - a perfume -
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer's night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see-

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle - shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me -

The wizard fingers never rest -
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed -

Still rears the East her amber Flag ?
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red ?

So looking on - the night - the morn -
Conclude the wonder gay -
And I meet, coming thro' the dews
Another summer's Day!