32
When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,
And Violets are done—
When Bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the Sun—
The hand that paused to gather
Upon this Summer's day
Will idle lie—in Auburn—
Then take my flowers—pray!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I Had A Guinea Golden
- She Slept Beneath A Tree
- The Mountain Sat Upon The Plain
- Of Course—i Prayed
- I Robbed The Woods