Odes to summer used to abound, back when the temperate zone was temperate. This week, languishing indoors, we sought a poem that could take us back to that time—a time when the days of summer could delight, refresh, even transport us.

We found one—by Emily Dickinson, of course.


A something in a summer’s Day
By Emily Dickinson

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—

The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—

Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—

So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!


Photo by Rosa Dik via Flickr

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