There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Crumbling Is Not An Instant's Act
- Sunset At Night—is Natural
- Bless God, He Went As Soldiers
- As If Some Little Arctic Flower
- Alter! When The Hills Do