Emily Dickinson

If Pain For Peace Prepares

poem 63

If pain for peace prepares Lo, what Augustan years Our feet await! If springs from winter rise, Can the Anemones Be reckoned up? If night stands fast then noon To gird us for the sun, What gaze! When from a thousand skies On our developed eyes Noons blaze!

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0