Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle, par Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle

302

Like Some Old fashioned Miracle

When Summertime is done—

Seems Summer’s Recollection

And the Affairs of June

As infinite Tradition

As Cinderella’s Bays—

Or Little John—of Lincoln Green—

Or Blue Beard’s Galleries—

Her Bees have a fictitious Hum—

Her Blossoms, like a Dream—

Elate us—till we almost weep—

So plausible—they seem—

Her Memories like Strains—Review—

When Orchestra is dumb—

The Violin in Baize replaced—

And Ear—and Heaven—numb—

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Emily Dickinson

Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle

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