Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1436 Than Heaven more remote, For Heaven is the root, But these the flitted seed. More flown indeed Than ones that never were, Or those that hide, and are. What madness, by their side, A vision to provide Of future days They cannot praise. My soul, to find them, come, They cannot call, they're dumb, Nor prove, nor woo, But that they have abode Is absolute as God, And instant, too. Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 19 May 2013 10:04 AM | Viewed: 6185 times