Poems by Emily Dickinson: XVIII ("Pompless no life")

Updated May 6, 2020 | Infoplease Staff
by EmilyDickinson
Triumph
XIX

XVIII

Pompless no life can pass away;
The lowliest career
To the same pageant wends its way
As that exalted here.
How cordial is the mystery!
The hospitable pall
A "this way" beckons spaciously, —
A miracle for all!
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