Talk not to me of Summer Trees

Emily DickinsonContemplative

Talk not to me of Summer Trees The foliage of the mind A Tabernacle is for Birds Of no corporeal kind And winds do go that way at noon To their Ethereal Homes Whose Bugles call the least of us To undepicted Realms

Emily Dickinson

Mood:: Contemplative
Topics:: fancy, nature, eternity, dream, heaven

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Summary

The speaker brushes aside summer trees almost impatiently: the real sanctuary lies within, in the “foliage of the mind.” That inner forest is a tabernacle for birds of no physical kind, creatures of pure thought or spirit.

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