A Lady red, amid the Hill
Her annual secret keeps.
A Lady white, within the field
In chintz and lily, sleeps.

The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms
Sweep Vale, and hill, and tree –
Prithee, my pretty Housewives!
Who may expected be?

The neighbors do not yet suspect!
The woods exchange a smile!
Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird
In such a little while!

And yet how still the Landscape stands!
How nonchalant the Hedge!
As if the Resurrection
Were nothing very strange!

                               Emily –