930 <br /> <br />There is a June when Corn is cut <br />And Roses in the Seed— <br />A Summer briefer than the first <br />But tenderer indeed <br /> <br />As should a Face supposed the Grave's <br />Emerge a single Noon <br />In the Vermilion that it wore <br />Affect us, and return— <br /> <br />Two Seasons, it is said, exist— <br />The Summer of the Just, <br />And this of Ours, diversified <br />With Prospect, and with Frost— <br /> <br />May not our Second with its First <br />So infinite compare <br />That We but recollect the one <br />The other to prefer?<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-is-a-june-when-corn-is-cut/
