Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1225 Its Hour with itself The Spirit never shows. What Terror would enthrall the Street Could Countenance disclose The Subterranean Freight The Cellars of the Soul— Thank God the loudest Place he made Is license to be still. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 30 Aug 2008 4:38 PM | Viewed: 4775 times
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