Dickinsons Day: Afternoon

From cocoon forth a butterfly, as lady from her door, emerged a summer afternoon, repairing everywhere, without design that I could trace, except to stray abroad on miscellaneous enterprise the clovers understood. where men made hay, where parties, phantom as herself to nowhere seemed to go in purposeless circumference, as 'twere a tropic show. Ah, this audience of idleness from the sky, till sundown crept, a steady tide, and men that made the hay, and afternoon, and butterfly, extinquished in its sea.