It can't be summer
It can't be summer, -- that got through; / It 's early yet for spring;
SUCCESS - Success is counted sweetest
❦
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear!
More poems by Emily Dickinson
THE Winds drew off
THE Winds drew off / Like hungry dogs
GHOSTS
One need not be a chamber to be haunted, / One need not be a house;
THE SPIRIT
THE SPIRIT. / 'T is whiter than an Indian pipe,