96
Sexton! My Master’s sleeping here.
Pray lead me to his bed!
I came to build the Bird’s nest,
And sow the Early seed-
That when the snow creeps slowly
From off his chamber door-
Daisies point the way there-
And the Troubadour.
(Emily Dickinson)
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Based on Topics: Birds Poems, Snow PoemsBased on Keywords: troubadour