Ourselves were wed one summer—dear—
Your
Vision—was in June—
And
when Your little Lifetime failed,
I
wearied—too—of mine—
And
overtaken in the Dark—
Where
You had put me down—
By Some one carrying a Light—
By Some one carrying a Light—
I—too—received
the Sign.
'Tis
true—Our Futures different lay—
Your
Cottage—faced the sun—
While
Oceans—and the North must be—
On
every side of mine
'Tis
true, Your Garden led the Bloom,
For
mine—in Frosts—was sown—
And
yet, one Summer, we were Queens—
But
You—were crowned in June—
Emily Dickinson.
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