Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

'T WAS later when the summer went
Than when the cricket came,
And yet we knew that gentle clock
Meant nought but going home.

'T was sooner when the cricket went
Than when the winter came,
Yet that pathetic pendulum
Keeps esoteric time.

1. A Shady Friend for Torrid Days
2. Portraits Are to Daily Faces
3. The Goal
4. Sight
5. The Thought Beneath So Slight a Film

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