Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

They dropped like flakes


They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the lune
A wind with fingers goes.

They perished in the seamless grass,--
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face

Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001

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  • Lady Hope (12/19/2012 7:46:00 PM)

    RIP Sarah. I know that somewhere youre that wind with fingers, blowing across the June. (Report) Reply

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