To meet the very air -
Nature Bore us sweet guitars
No doubt the birds were fashioned
To be precocious Bards.

- e.dickinson aprés claire malroux, aprés moi

Summer placed her Bonnet
Upon a giant shelf
Unseen, a ribbon slipped from it
And you took it for yourself.

- e.dickinson, aprés claire malroux, aprés moi

Away In her wooden drawer
the Summer laid her Supple glove
Of all the Places to Forget -
She forgot the Awe of Love.

- e.dickinson aprés claire malroux, aprés moi

They do not need me, but You Never Know,
So I leave my Heart for All to See -
My little smile, might best be served
Precisely as Needs Be.

- e.dickinson, aprés claire malroux, aprés moi

Decline without Dishonour,
Beneath a fickle colourfield -
Which will not let the Eye decide :
To yield or not to yield.

- e.dickinson, aprés claire malroux, aprés moi