The springtime's pallid landscape
Will glow like bright bouquet,
Through drifted deep in parian
The village lies to-day.
The lilacs, bending many a year,
With purple load will hang;
The bees will not forget the tune
Their old forefathers sang.
The rose will redden in the bog,
The aster on the hill
Her everlasting fashion set,
And covenant gentians frill,
Till summer folds her miracle
As women do their gown,
Or priest adjust the symbols,
When sacrament is done.
BY: EMILY DICKINSON
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Poems
RandomI really love poems from different people back from the old days like Edgar Allan Poe or Robert Frost, and more others.
