Emily Dickinson

A Solemn Thing It Was I Said

poem 271

A solemn thing it was I said A woman white to be And wear if God should count me fit Her blameless mystery A hallowed thing to drop a life Into the purple well Too plummetless that it return Eternity until I pondered how the bliss would look And would it feel as big When I could take it in my hand As hovering seen through fog And then the size of this small life The Sages call it small Swelled like Horizons in my vest And I sneered softly small!

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