Author Emily Dickinson 12 The morns are meeker than they were— The nuts are getting brown— The berry's cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town. The Maple wears a gayer scarf— The field a scarlet gown— Lest I should be old fashioned I'll put a trinket on. Tags rose Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments