XVII.
Who robed the woods,
The happy woods?
The frolicksome trees
Had shed their flowers and leaves
Their fantasies to please.
I scanned their bits, offended,
I threw them burrs and moss.
Thus the solemn hemlock stood;
Thus was fir-tree’s loss.
—
Her final draft (with interpretation), which was also amusing.
Emily Dickinson's Trashcan 