These are the days when Birds come back—
A very few — a Bird or two —
To take a backward look

These are days when skies resume
The old – old sophistries of June –
A blue and gold mistake.

Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee –
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear –
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.

Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze –
Permit a child to join.

They sacred emblems to partake –
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
—Emily Dickinson