These are the days when Birds come back –
A very few — a Bird or two –
To take a backward look.
These are the 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.
Thy sacred emblems to partake –
Thy consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
–Emily Dickinson, “These Are the Days When Birds Come Back”
In all honesty, the deceptive Indian Summer Dickinson writes of here may be already past, I’m afraid. It has snowed here. The leaves are mostly down. There’s little that could convince me that the drab season is not upon us. But I love the idea of it, and on a chilly, damp morning, I like this poem because it invokes the hope that we might have another such day here or there in the next week or so.
I’m not sure what the communion reference conveys in the last stanzas. Maybe it refers to a temporary partaking of the life of the natural world, on the brink of hibernation for a time, but certain to “resurrect” in spring. We exercise such “earthly” faith every year at this time. What do you think?
Poetry Friday is hosted at Biblio File today. Enjoy!
I’m not sure about the communion imagery either, unless it’s death rites for summer?
But I do love Dickinson, and thank you for sharing this today!
I hadn’t seen this poem before. So lovely. I agree with your assessment of the communion in the closing stanzas. Internalize this last remnant of summer for the winter days to come. Have a nice Halloween weekend.
I haven’t read this one before! It’s great. I think the sacrament of summer days is the holiness of the beautiful world around us.
The reference to the communion could be that with summer comes an inner awakening, and consuming the host and wine also cause an inner awakening of the spirit.
All of these are such good thoughts. Thank you — it underscores what a rich little poem this is.