Emily Dickinson steps outside into a summer afternoon that refuses to hold still. The trees swing like tassels; insects rise in a faint, sun-accompanied music. The sun itself plays hide-and-seek with clouds, as if it could vanish entirely on a whim, only grudgingly letting the orchards grow. A bird perches idly, another gossip charms a snake, and flowers burst open like flags hoisting spice-scented hems. The speaker is utterly captivated, aware that no matter how she tries to list these wonders, the real day overflows language. She feels a humble awe, even a little defiant: a painter like Vandyke might delineate a summer scene, but her own living encounter—messy, glancing, full of small enchantments—is far richer. The mood is one of delighted, almost incredulous attention, as if the world has briefly lifted its ordinary veil.
The Trees like Tassels -- hit -- and swung -- — Summary
The Trees like Tassels -- hit -- and swung -- There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun --
Far Psalteries of Summer -- Enamoring the Ear They never yet did satisfy -- Remotest -- when most fair
The Sun shone whole at intervals -- Then Half -- then utter hid -- As if Himself were optional And had Estates of Cloud
Sufficient to enfold Him Eternally from view -- Except it were a whim of His To let the Orchards grow --
A Bird sat careless on the fence -- One gossipped in the Lane On silver matters charmed a Snake Just winding round a Stone --
Bright Flowers slit a Calyx And soared upon a Stem Like Hindered Flags -- Sweet hoisted -- With Spices -- in the Hem --
'Twas more -- I cannot mention -- How mean -- to those that see -- Vandyke's Delineation Of Nature's -- Summer Day!