emily-dickinson.gif Emily Dickinson image by alessepif
Emily Dickinson


There is a morn by men unseen —
Whose maids upon remoter green
Keep their seraphic May —
And all day long, with dance and game,
And gambol I may never name —
Employ their holiday.

Here to light measure, move the feet
Which walk no more the village street —
Nor by the wood are found —
Here are the birds that sought the sun
When last year’s distaff idle hung
And summer’s brows were bound.

Ne’er saw I such a wondrous scene —
Ne’er such a ring on such a green —
Nor so serene array —
As if the stars some summer night
Should swing their cups of Chrysolite —
And revel till the day —

Like thee to dance — like thee to sing —
People upon the mystic green —
I ask, each new May morn.
I wait thy far — fantastic bells —
Announcing me in other dells —
Unto the different dawn!