The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer’s day?
From: Poems by Emily Dickinson Series One
Edited by two of her friends
Mabel Loomis Todd and T.W. Higginson