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Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

The Truth—is Stirless

780
 
The Truth—is stirless—
Other force—may be presumed to move—
This—then—is best for confidence—
When oldest Cedars swerve—
 
And Oaks untwist their fists—
And Mountains—feeble—lean—
How excellent a Body, that
Stands without a Bone—
 
How vigorous a Force
That holds without a Prop—
Truth stays Herself—and every man
That trusts Her—boldly up—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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I reckon—when I count it all—

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828 The Robin is the One That interrupt the Morn With hurried—few—express Reports When March is scarcely on—
I think to Live—may be a Bliss

646 I think to Live—may be a Bliss To those who dare to try— Beyond my limit to conceive— My lip—to testify—
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