To Emily

In Amherst's shade, where whispers grow,  
You stitched the seams of all we know,  
A bee's soft hum, a slant of light,  
Became the fabric of your night.  

With quill in hand, and soul in flight,  
You mapped the stars, the frost, the kite,  
No boundary held your daring mind,  
A hermit's door, yet unconfined.  

The orchard's hush, the robin's call,  
You saw the infinite in small,  
Death's carriage passed, you felt its pace,  
And glimpsed eternity's vast face.  

So here we stand, within your frame,  
Where every atom speaks your name,  
Poetess of unseen streams,  
You wove the world from threads of dreams.