The Summer that we did not prize,
Her treasures were so easy
Instructs us by departing now
And recognition lazy —

Bestirs itself — puts on its Coat,
And scans with fatal promptness
For Trains that moment out of sight,
Unconscious of his smartness.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Emily Dickinson's poem The Summer that we did not prize,

1 Comment

  1. Crook says:

    the best poem ever

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