I’€™ll tell you how the sun rose, -
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.
 
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
“That must have been the sun!”
 
But how he set, I know not.
There seemed a purple stile.
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while
 
Till when they reached the other side,
A dominie in gray
Put gently up the evening bars,
And led the flock away.

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