Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Untitled By Emily Dickinson


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I shall keep singing!
Birds will pass me
on their way to yellower climes-
Each-with a Robin's expectation-
I- with my redbreast-
And my rhymes-
.
Late-when I take my place in summer-
But-I shall bring a fuller tune-
Vespers- are sweeter than Matins-signor-
Morning-only the seed of Noon-