The going from a world we know
To one a wonder still
Is like the child's adversity
Whose vista is a hill,
Behind the hill is sorcery
And everything unknown,
But will the secret compensate
For climbing it alone?
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- If Ever The Lid Gets Off My Head
- There is no Silence in the Earth
- Some Days retired from the rest
- September's Baccalaureate
- A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring