A Light exists in Spring not present on the Year
At any other period – when March is scarcely here
A Color stands abroad on Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake but Human Nature feels.
It waits upon the Lawn, it shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know it almost speaks to you.
Then as Horizons step or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound it passes and we stay –
A quality of loss affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached upon a Sacrament. – Emily Dickinson
No comments:
Post a Comment