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Heaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved—
The Site—of it—by Architect
Could not again be proved—
'Tis vast—as our Capacity—
As fair—as our idea—
To Him of adequate desire
No further 'tis, than Here—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Snow Beneath Whose Chilly Softness
- Life—is What We Make Of It
- On This Long Storm The Rainbow Rose
- There Is A Flower That Bees Prefer
- Unfulfilled To Observation