THE SUMMER THAT WE DID NOT PRIZE - by Emily Dickinson

THE  SUMMER  THAT  WE  DID  NOT  PRIZE by Emily Dickinson The Summer that we did not prize, Her treasures were so easy Instructs us by departing now And recognition lazy - Bestirs itself - puts on its Coat, And scans with fatal promptness For Trains that moment out of sight, Unconscious of his smartness.