I cannot meet the Spring unmoved—
Emily Dickinson
1051 I cannot meet the Spring unmoved— I feel the old desire— A Hurry with a lingering, mixed, A Warrant to be fair— A Competition in my sense With something hid in Her— And as she vanishes, Remorse I saw no more of Her.
![[Poetry X Logo]](http://poetryx.com/images/poetryXLogo.gif)
