The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
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, For fear the numbers fuse - If only Centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand,Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Dieman's Land. If certain, when this life was out - That your's and mine, should be -I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind,And take Eternity - But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee - That will not state - it's sting.