|
|
This Was In The White Of The Year,
By Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
This was in the white of the year,
That was in the green,
Drifts were as difficult then to think
As daisies now to be seen.
Looking back is best that is left,
Or if it be before,
Retrospection is prospect's half,
Sometimes almost more.
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 423 times.
|
|
