Emily Dickinson

Doom Is the House Without the Door

475
 
Doom is the House without the Door—
’Tis entered from the Sun—
And then the Ladder’s thrown away,
Because Escape—is done—
 
’Tis varied by the Dream
Of what they do outside—
Where Squirrels play—and Berries die—
And Hemlocks—bow—to God—
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