Loading...

It’s Like the Light,—

It’s like the light,—
  A fashionless delight
It’s like the bee,—
  A dateless melody.
 
It’s like the woods,
  Private like breeze,
Phraseless, yet it stirs
  The proudest trees.
 
It’s like the morning,—
  Best when it’s done,—
The everlasting clocks
  Chime noon.
Other works by Emily Dickinson...



Top