Emily Dickinson

Midsummer, Was It, When They Died

poem 962

Midsummer, was it, when They died A full, and perfect time The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom The Corn, her furthest kernel filled Before the coming Flail When These leaned unto Perfectness Through Haze of Burial

Comment Section just now

Feel free to be first to leave comment.

8/2200 - 0