When Roses Cease To Bloom, Dear


When roses cease to bloom, dear
and violets are done,
When bumblebees in solemn flight
Have passed beyond the sun,

The hand that paused to gather
Upon this summer's day
Will idle lie, in Auburn.--
Then take my flower, pray!


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Return to the Emily Dickinson library , or . . . Read the next poem; "Why do I love" You, Sir?

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