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Happy Easter, Keith

If He dissolve—then—there is nothing Poem by Emily Dickinson

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If He dissolve—then—there is nothing—more—
Eclipse—at Midnight—
It was dark—before—
Sunset—at Easter—
Blindness—on the Dawn—
Faint Star of Bethlehem—
Gone down!

Would but some God—inform Him—
Or it be too late!
Say—that the pulse just lisps—
The Chariots wait—

Say—that a little life—for His—
Is leaking—red—
His little Spaniel—tell Him!
Will He heed?

EASTER POEMS

Eastern Europe 161

Easter Morn
By Louise Lewin Matthews
Easter morn with lilies fair
Fills the church with perfumes rare,
As their clouds of incense rise,
Sweetest offerings to the skies.
Stately lilies pure and white
Flooding darkness with their light,
Bloom and sorrow drifts away,
On this holy hallow’d day.
Easter Lilies bending low
In the golden afterglow,
Bear a message from the sod
To the heavenly towers of God.

Eastern Europe 551

The Easter Bunny
A poem by
M. Josephine Todd, 1909
There’s a story quite funny,
About a toy bunny,
And the wonderful things she can do;
Every bright Easter morning,
Without warning,
She colors eggs, red, green, or blue.
Some she covers with spots,
Some with quaint little dots,
And some with strange mixed colors, too
— Red and green, blue and yellow,
But each unlike its fellow
Are eggs of every hue.
And it’s odd, as folks say,
That on no other day
In all of the whole year through,
Does this wonderful bunny,
So busy and funny,
Color eggs of every hue.
If this story you doubt
She will soon find you out,
And what do you think she will do?
On the next Easter morning
She’ll bring you without warning,
Those eggs of every hue.

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