Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1740 Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, Until we meet a snake; 'Tis then we sigh for houses, And our departure take At that enthralling gallop That only childhood knows. A snake is summer's treason, And guile is where it goes. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 23 May 2013 1:16 PM | Viewed: 6446 times