If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what "Augustan" years
Our feet await!
If springs from winter rise,
Can the Anemones
Be reckoned up?
If night stands first - then noon
To gird us for the sun
What gaze!
When from a thousand skies
On our developed eyes
Noons blaze!
Emily Dickinson
The Poems of Emily Dickenson (Franklin, ed.)
155
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