She Sweeps With Many-Colored Brooms


She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!

You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you've littered all the East
With duds of emerald!

And still she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars - 
And then I come away.


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It ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble. It's what you know for sure that just ain't so.