mayberry
If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
with half a smile and half a spurn
as housewives do a fly
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls
And put them each in separate drawers
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemens land.
If certain, when this life was out,
that yours and mine should be.
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of length,
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
--Emily Dickinson
I'd brush the summer by
with half a smile and half a spurn
as housewives do a fly
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls
And put them each in separate drawers
Until their time befalls.
If only centuries delayed
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemens land.
If certain, when this life was out,
that yours and mine should be.
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But now, all ignorant of length,
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
--Emily Dickinson