This is a poem Emily Dickinson wrote in pencil onto the inside of an envelope addressed on the verso to a Samuel Bowles, his name clipped from the Springfield Republican and glued down. The stamp has been cut away and the poem cascades down the tilted envelope. Somehow the missing piece ties in with one theme of the poem, loss. I love the metaphor of a cricket as a gentle clock. Poetry Friday today at jama's alphabet soup.
’Twas later when the summer went Than when the Cricket came— And yet we knew that gentle Clock Meant nought but Going Home— ’Twas sooner when the Cricket went Than when the Winter came Yet that pathetic Pendulum Keeps esoteric Time.