Emily Dickinson

The Heaven Vests For Each

poem 694

The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day Half shrinking from the Glory It importuned to see Till these faint Tabernacles drop In full Eternity How imminent the Venture As one should sue a Star For His mean sake to leave the Row And entertain Despair A Clemency so common We almost cease to fear Enabling the minutest And furthest to adore

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