The red-breast for its breadcrumb
utters not one word of thanks.
But how long will we sing the name
of the Dame that died of money ?
- e. dickinson aprés cm

It is June and so the wheat is cut.
This is an intuitive decision.
-e.dickinson aprés cm

So perfect - unknown to me, She
and I, unknown to her
was Promising Paradise at her door
or at least a moment without Pain.
- e.dickinson aprés cm

The definition of Beauty is
that it has no Definition,
For if Heaven is given enough thought
The Thought and Heaven become One.

- e.dickinson (par cm - aprés cm)