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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Life LXXXVIII. Heaven is what I cannot reach! (239)

Part One: Life

 
            LXXXVIII
 
HEAVEN is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That “heaven” is, to me.
 
The color on the cruising cloud,
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind,—
There Paradise is found!
 
Her teasing Purples—Afternoons—
The credulous—decoy—
Enamored—of the Conjuror—
That spurned us—Yesterday!

#AmericanWriters

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Oscar Cifuentes Lopez
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408 Unit, like Death, for Whom? True, like the Tomb, Who tells no secret Told to Him—
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796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—
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