Lyric Poem · Summer
Her final Summer was it
Her final Summer was it —
And yet We guessed it not —
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within —
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain —
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post —
At Our Stupidity —
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay —
So busy was she — finishing —
So leisurely — were We —
This poem is in the public domain.
“Her final Summer was it” by Emily Dickinson — quilloak.com/poems/her-final-summer-was-it
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