Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1718 Drowning is not so pitiful As the attempt to rise Three times, 'tis said, a sinking man Comes up to face the skies, And then declines forever To that abhorred abode, Where hope and he part company— For he is grasped of God. The Maker's cordial visage, However good to see, Is shunned, we must admit it, Like an adversity. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 27 May 2012 11:38 AM | Viewed: 7750 times
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