Through the Dark Sod—as Education—
The Lily passes sure—
Feels her white foot—no trepidation—
Her faith—no fear—
Afterward—in the Meadow—
Swinging her Beryl Bell—
The Mold-life—all forgotten—now—
In Ecstasy—and Dell—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Like Some Old Fashioned Miracle
- God Is A Distant—stately Lover
- I Haven'T Told My Garden Yet
- The Sun And Moon Must Make Their Haste
- How Sick—to Wait—in Any Place—but Thine