The Emily Dickinson of Our Time?
by Elayne Clift

Her verses in rhyme work totally fine,
And make me wish that so did mine.

Writing of “wild plum trees in tremulous white,”
And “frogs in pools singing at night,”
She brings glorious nature into sight.

All of this in a poem of war, while she mourns that
“No one will care at last when it is done,”
“And Spring herself … would scarcely know that
We were gone.”

Her poem “There Will Come Soft Rains,”
Makes me ponder: Might Sara Teasdale
be Emily Dickinson in our time?



 

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