The last of Summer is Delight —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
The last of Summer is Delight —
Deterred by Retrospect.
'Tis Ecstasy's revealed Review —
Enchantment's Syndicate.
To meet it — nameless as it is —
Without celestial Mail —
Audacious as without a Knock
To walk within the Veil.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
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There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
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A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
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There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
All poems by Emily Dickinson →