Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Two Worlds

It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.

Wild-flowers kindle in the woods,
The brooks brag all the day;
No blackbird bates his jargoning
For passing Calvary.

Auto-da-fe and judgment
Are nothing to the bee;
His separation from his rose
To him seems misery.

1. A Poor Torn Heart, a Tattered Heart
2. Too Much
3. The Show
4. Delight Becomes Pictorial
5. A Thought Went up My Mind To-day

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