Emily Dickinson

After a hundred years

After a hundred years

Nobody knows the place, —

Agony, that enacted there,

Motionless as peace.

 

Weeds triumphant ranged,

Strangers strolled and spelled

At the lone orthography

Of the elder dead.

 

Winds of summer fields

Recollect the way, —

Instinct picking up the key

Dropped by memory.