Longing is like the Seed
That wrestles in the Ground,
Believing if it intercede
It shall at length be found.
The Hour, and the Clime -
Each Circumstance unknown,
What Constancy must be achieved
Before it see the Sun!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Rearrange a 'Wife's' affection!
- Exhilaration is the Breeze
- The Hills erect their Purple Heads
- The grave my little cottage is
- Let me not mar that perfect Dream