Emily Dickinson

Not In This World To See His Face

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the place Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf, Clasped yet to him and me. And yet, my primer suits me so I would not choose a book to know Than that, be sweeter wise; Might some one else so learned be. And leave me just my A B C, Himself could have the skies.

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