Poems by Emily Dickinson: XVIII ("Pompless no life")
Updated May 6, 2020 |
Infoplease Staff
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!
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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