by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < The Mystery of Pain
The one that could repeat the summer day > > >
The nearest dream recedes, unrealized
The nearest dream recedes, unrealized.
The heaven we chase
Like the June bee
Before the school-boy
Invites the race;
Stoops to an easy clover —
Dips — evades — teases — deploys;
Then to the royal clouds
Lifts his light pinnace
Heedless of the boy
Staring, bewildered, at the mocking sky.
Homesick for steadfast honey,
Ah! the bee flies not
That brews that rare variety.
< < < The Mystery of Pain
The one that could repeat the summer day > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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