Emily Dickinson – Poem 508

A Pit–but Heaven over it– And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad; And yet a Pit– […]

Ethan Richardson / 2.21.12

A Pit–but Heaven over it–
And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad;
And yet a Pit–
With Heaven over it.

To stir would be to slip–
To look would be to drop–
To dream–to sap the Prop
That holds my chances up.
Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!

The depth is all my thought–
I dare not ask my feet–
‘Twould start us where we sit
So straight you’d scarce suspect
It was a Pit–with fathoms under it
It’s Circuit just the same
Whose Doom to whom
‘Twould start them–
We–could tremble–
But since we got a Bomb–
And held it in our Bosom–
Nay–Hold it–it is calm–

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