How brittle are the Piers
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
How brittle are the Piers
On which our Faith doth tread —
No Bridge below doth totter so —
Yet none hath such a Crowd.
It is as old as God —
Indeed — 'twas built by him —
He sent his Son to test the Plank,
And he pronounced it firm.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
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There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
-
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
-
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
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