When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye —
When I con the people
Lain so low,
To be received as high —
When I believe the garden
Mortal shall not see —
Pick by faith its blossom
And avoid its Bee,
I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.
Emily Dickinson in this poem is torn between the philosophical schools of predeterminism and predestination knowing full well that the Puritans will abide by fate whether chosen or not their faith for heavenly reward. the predestination of Emily is expressed she can unreluctantly let the summer pass
and another season count the seeds and view the passage of time.Thogh mortals can not view the garden
they can receive see the cycle of life and death,
I am reminded of a poem I wrote called
” belief ”
that i believe
is made up of
so many emotions
you believe differently
just some notions
Shimon Weinroth