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 Diemen's land.
If certain, when life was out
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But, but now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like a 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 Diemen's land.
If certain, when life was out
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.
But, but now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like a goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.
Emily Dickinson
Image "Autumn Forest" by Daniel Rericha
Image source here