Emily Dickinson (183086). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Two: Nature
XLVI
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| IT cant be summer,that got through; | |
| It s early yet for spring; | |
| There s that long town of white to cross | |
| Before the blackbirds sing. | |
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| It cant be dying,it s too rouge, | 5 |
| The dead shall go in white. | |
| So sunset shuts my question down | |
| With clasps of chrysolite. | |
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