POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
C
WHO has not found the heaven below
Will fail of it above.
God’s residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.
Will fail of it above.
God’s residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.
CI
A FACE devoid of love or grace,
A hateful, hard, successful face,
A face with which a stone
Would feel as thoroughly at ease
As were they old acquaintances,—
First time together thrown.
A hateful, hard, successful face,
A face with which a stone
Would feel as thoroughly at ease
As were they old acquaintances,—
First time together thrown.
CII
I HAD a guinea golden;
I lost it in the sand,
And though the sum was simple,
And pounds were in the land,
Still had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye,
That when I could not find it
I sat me down to sigh.
I lost it in the sand,
And though the sum was simple,
And pounds were in the land,
Still had it such a value
Unto my frugal eye,
That when I could not find it
I sat me down to sigh.
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