At first I thought this lovely poem by Emily Dickinson was one of the few I've read so far that didn't reference death in some way. But a second look at the one I call Second Summer convinces me that Emily does not mistake signs of life for life itself.
These are the days when Birds come back --
A very few -- a Bird or two --
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies resume
The old -- old sophistries of June --
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee --
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear --
And softly thro' the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.
Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze --
Permit a child to join.
Thy sacred emblems to partake --
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!