Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep To suspend the Breath Is the most we can Ignorant is it Life or Death Nicely balancing. Let an instant push Or an Atom press Or a Circle hesitate In Circumference It—may jolt the Hand That adjusts the Hair That secures Eternity From presenting—Here—
Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 24 Apr 2017 8:57 PM | Viewed: 7033 times
A PoetryNotes™ eBook is available for this poem for delivery within 24 hours, and usually available within minutes during normal business hours.
ON SALE - only
For more information...