When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye—
When I con the people
Lain so low,
To be received as high—
When I believe the garden
Mortal shall not see—
Pick by faith its blossom
And avoid its Bee,
I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.
Did you enjoy the the artible “When I Count The Seeds” from Emily Dickinson on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply