NATURE: XXVII. INDIAN SUMMER [First Series

First Series [Series 1] by Emily Dickinson
III. NATURE - XXVII. INDIAN SUMMER
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NATURE: XXVII. INDIAN SUMMER These are the days when birds come back, A very few, a bird or two, To take a backward look. These are the days when skies put on The old, old sophistries of June, -- A blue and gold mistake. Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee, Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief, Till ranks of seeds their witness bear, And softly through the altered air Hurries a timid leaf! Oh, sacrament of summer days, Oh, last communion in the haze, Permit a child to join, Thy sacred emblems to partake, Thy consecrated bread to break, Taste thine immortal wine! Content of NATURE: XXVII. INDIAN SUMMER [Emily Dickinson's poem collection: First Series [Series 1]] Read next: III. NATURE#XXVIII. AUTUMN Read previous: III. NATURE#XXVI. 'T WAS later when the summer went Table of content of First Series [Series 1] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN Post your review Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book

First Series [Series 1] by Emily Dickinson