Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame— Wild flowers—kindle in the Woods— The Brooks slam—all the Day— No Black bird bates his Banjo— For passing Calvary— Auto da Fe—and Judgment— Are nothing to the Bee— His separation from His Rose— To Him—sums Misery—
Added: 2 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:44 PM | Viewed: 7592 times
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