This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery!
Night after night her purple traffic
Strews the landing with opal bales;
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.
From: Poems by Emily Dickinson Series One
Edited by two of her friends
Mabel Loomis Todd and T.W. Higginson