They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, —
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Rehearsal To Ourselves
- It's Thoughts—and Just One Heart
- I Had The Glory—that Will Do
- It's Like The Light, --
- We Thirst At First—'Tis Nature's Act