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Home  »  library  »  Song  »  Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)

Indian Summer

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 put on

The old, old sophistries of June,—

A blue-and-gold mistake.

Oh! fraud that almost cheats the bee,

Almost thy plausibility

Induces my belief;

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,

And softly through 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,

Thy consecrated bread to break,

Taste thine immortal wine.