Emily Dickinson - It makes no difference abroad lyrics

620 It makes no difference abroad The Seasons—fit—the same The Mornings blossom into Noons And split their Pods of Flame Wild flowers—kindle in the Woods The Brooks slam—all the Day No Black bird bates his Banjo For pa**ing Calvary Auto da Fe—and Judgment Are nothing to the Bee His separation from His Rose To Him—sums Misery