57
To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- To Put This World Down, Like A Bundle
- I Stepped From Plank To Plank
- That Is Solemn We Have Ended
- Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn
- He Fumbles At Your Soul