These are the days when Birds come back-
A very few- a Bird or two -
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies resume
The old - old sophistries of June -
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee -
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear -
And softly thro' the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.
Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze -
Permit a child to join.
Thy sacred emblems to partake -
Thy consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
Emily Dickinson
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