A Shady Friend For Torrid Days By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

 A shady friend for torrid days
    Is easier to find
    Than one of higher temperature
    For frigid hour of mind.

    The vane a little to the east
    Scares muslin souls away;
    If broadcloth breasts are firmer
    Than those of organdy,

    Who is to blame? The weaver?
    Ah! the bewildering thread!
    The tapestries of paradise
    So notelessly are made!