428
Taking up the fair Ideal,
Just to cast her down
When a fracture—we discover—
Or a splintered Crown—
Makes the Heavens portable—
And the Gods—a lie—
Doubtless—"Adam"&md ash;scowled at Eden—
For his perjury!
Cherishing—our pool Ideal—
Till in purer dress—
We behold her—glorified—
Comforts—sear ch—like this—
Till the broken creatures—
We adored—for whole—
Stains—all washed—
Transfigured—mended—
Meet us—with a smile—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- It Was Too Late For Man
- To My Small Hearth His Fire Came
- Embarrassment Of One Another
- You Said That I
- To Love Thee Year By Year