It will be Summer-eventually Emily Dickenson

It will be Summer—eventually.

Ladies—with parasols—

Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes—

And little Girls—with Dolls—

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Will tint the pallid landscape—

As 'twere a bright Bouquet—

Thro' drifted deep, in Parian—

The Village lies—today—

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The Lilacs—bending many a year—

Will sway with purple load—

The Bees—will not despise the tune—

Their Forefathers—have hummed—

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The Wild Rose—redden in the Bog—

The Aster—on the Hill

Her everlasting fashion—set—

And Covenant Gentians—frill—

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Till Summer folds her miracle—

As Women—do—their Gown—

Of Priests—adjust the Symbols—

When Sacrament—is done—

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