681
Soil of Flint, if steady tilled—
Will refund by Hand—
Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun
Fructified in Sand—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- The Night Was Wide, And Furnished Scant
- I Sing To Use The Waiting
- There Is A Shame Of Nobleness
- I'Ve Heard An Organ Talk, Sometimes
- The Notice that is called the Spring