Cite

Poems by Emily Dickinson: The Battle-Field

by EmilyDickinson
VIII
X

The Battle-Field

The Battle-Field

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, —
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
.com/t/lit/dickinson/2/chapter4/9.html