Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

To venerate the simple days
Which lead the seasons by,
Needs but to remember
That from you or I,
They may take the trifle
Termed mortality!

To invest existence with a stately air
Needs but to remember
That the acorn there
Is the egg of forests
For the upper air!

1. A Poor Torn Heart, a Tattered Heart
2. Too Much
3. The Show
4. Delight Becomes Pictorial
5. A Thought Went up My Mind To-day

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