31
Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whipporwill
And Oriole—are done!
For thee to bloom, I'll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o'er!
Pray gather me—
Anemone—
Thy flower—forevermore!
Emily Dickinson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/summer-for-thee-grant-i-may-be/
