Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1056 There is a Zone whose even Years No Solstice interrupt— Whose Sun constructs perpetual Noon Whose perfect Seasons wait— Whose Summer set in Summer, till The Centuries of June And Centuries of August cease And Consciousness—is Noon. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 12:40 AM | Viewed: 7214 times
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