If I can be your summer,
When Summer days are flown!
When summer days are gone,
Thy Music Still, When Whipporwill,
I will still be your music around my ears!
And oriole — are done!
When the nightingale and the oriole have finished singing,
for them to bloom, I'll skip the tomb,
bloom for you, and I jump out of the graveyard!
from:
summer for them, grant I may be
If I could be your summer
-Emily Dickinson
-Emily Dickinson.