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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

There Is a June When Corn Is Cut

930
 
There is a June when Corn is cut
And Roses in the Seed—
A Summer briefer than the first
But tenderer indeed
 
As should a Face supposed the Grave’s
Emerge a single Noon
In the Vermilion that it wore
Affect us, and return—
 
Two Seasons, it is said, exist—
The Summer of the Just,
And this of Ours, diversified
With Prospect, and with Frost—
 
May not our Second with its First
So infinite compare
That We but recollect the one
The other to prefer?

#AmericanWriters

Autres oeuvres par Emily Dickinson...
Your Riches—taught me—Poverty.

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Talk With Prudence to a Beggar

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Beclouded

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“Nature” Is What We See

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A South Wind—has a pathos

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Unto like Story—Trouble has enticed me

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A Counterfeit– a Plated Person –

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Speech—is a prank of Parliament—

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A Wounded Deer—leaps highest

165 A Wounded Deer—leaps highest— I’ve heard the Hunter tell— ’Tis but the Ecstasy of death— And then the Brake is still!
Besides This May

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What Care the Dead, for Chanticleer

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The White Heat

Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…
Good Night, Because We Must

114 Good night, because we must, How intricate the dust! I would go, to know! Oh incognito!



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