These Are The Days When Birds Come Back
Emily Dickinson
130 These are the days when Birds come back— A very few—a Bird or two— To take a backward look. These are the days when skies resume The old—old sophistries of June— A blue and gold mistake. Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee— Almost thy plausibility Induces my belief. Till ranks of seeds their witness bear— And softly thro’ the altered air Hurries a timid leaf. Oh Sacrament of summer days, Oh Last Communion in the Haze— Permit a child to join. Thy sacred emblems to partake— They consecrated bread to take And thine immortal wine!
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