Emily’s Birthday

Some say Emily Dickinson (1830–86) is America’s greatest poet. I know that she’s definitely one of myFaves. Since today’s Miss Emily’s birthday, here are some of her thoughts.

To make a prairie it takes a clover
And one bee, ―
One clover, and a bee,
And revery.
The revery alone will do
If bees are few.

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Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting habiliments
Of indigo and brown.

With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some superior tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his seraphic self!

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