A shady friend for torrid days by Emily Dickinson Lyrics

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!