Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/It can't be summer,—that got through
POEMS, 169
- XLVI.
IT can't be summer, — that got through;
It's early yet for spring;
There 's that long town of white to cross
Before the blackbirds sing.
It can't be dying, — it 's too rouge, —
The dead shall go in white.
So sunset shuts my question down
With clasps of chrysolite.