Emily Dickinson — On this long storm the Rainbow rose

194 On this long storm the Rainbow rose On this late Morn—the Sun The clouds—like listless Elephants Horizons—straggled down The Birds rose smiling, in their nests The gales—indeed—were done Alas, how heedless were the eyes On whom the summer shone! The quiet nonchalance of death No Daybreak—can bestir The slow—Archangel's syllables Must awaken her!