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Emily Dickinson - If you were coming in the fall,
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	If you were coming in the Fall,
	I`d brush the Summer by
	With half a smile, and half a spurn,
	As Housewives do, a Fly.

	If I could see you in a year,
	I`d wind the months in balls---
	And put them each in separate Drawers,
	For fear the numbers fuse---

	If only Centuries, delayed,
	I`d count them on my Hand,
	Subtracting, til my fingers dropped
	Into Van Dieman`s Land,

	If certain, when this life was out---
	That yours and mine, should be
	I`d toss it yonder, like a Rind,
	And take Eternity---

	But, now, uncertain of the length
	Of this, that is between,
	It goads me, like the Goblin Bee---
	That will not state--- its sting.
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