I cant tell you, but you feel it -
Nor can you tell me -
Saints, with ravished slate and pencil
Solve our April Day!

Sweeter than a vanished Frolic
From a vanished Green!
Swifter than the Hoofs of Hors[e]men -
Round a Ledge of Dream!

Modest - let us walk among it -
With our "faces vailed" -
As they say, polite `Archangels'
Do in meeting God!

Not for me to prate about it!
Not for you to say
To some fashionable Lady,
"Charming April Day"!
	- over - [written by Dickinson]

Rather, Heaven's `Peter Parley',
By which Children - slow -
To sublimer Recitation -
Are prepared to go?
			Emily -