The Birds reported from the South --
A News express to Me --
A spicy Charge, My little Posts --
But I am deaf -- Today --

The Flowers -- appealed -- a timid Throng --
I reinforced the Door --
Go blossom for the Bees -- I said --
And trouble Me -- no More --

The Summer Grace, for Notice strove --
Remote -- Her best Array --
The Heart -- to stimulate the Eye
Refused too utterly --

At length, a Mourner, like Myself,
She drew away austere --
Her frosts to ponder -- then it was
I recollected Her --

She suffered Me, for I had mourned --
I offered Her no word --
My Witness -- was the Crape I bore --
Her -- Witness -- was Her Dead --

Thenceforward -- We -- together dwelt --
I never questioned Her --
Our Contract
A Wiser Sympathy

Added: Jan 9 2004 | Viewed: 1298 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Emily Dickinson
Poem: 743. The Birds reported from the South --
Volume: Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Year: Published/Written in 1955
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