A something in a summer's Day

As slow her flambeaux burn away

Which solemnizes me.

"A something in a summer's Day

As slow her flambeaux burn away

Which solemnizes me.

 

A something in a summer's noon—

A depth—an Azure—a perfume—

Transcending ecstasy.

 

And still within a summer's night

A something so transporting bright

I clap my hands to see—

 

Then veil my too inspecting face

Lest such a subtle—shimmering grace

Flutter too far for me—

 

The wizard fingers never rest—

The purple brook within the breast

Still chafes its narrow bed—

 

Still rears the East her amber Flag—

Guides still the sun along the Crag

His Caravan of Red—

 

So looking on—the night—the morn

Conclude the wonder gay—

And I meet, coming thro' the dews

Another summer's Day!"

– Emily Dickinson