these are the days

THESE ARE THE DAYS WHEN BIRDS COME BACK

emily dickinson

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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