We pray — to Heaven —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
We pray — to Heaven —
We prate — of Heaven —
Relate — when Neighbors die —
At what o'clock to heaven — they fled —
Who saw them — Wherefore fly?
Is Heaven a Place — a Sky — a Tree?
Location's narrow way is for Ourselves —
Unto the Dead
There's no Geography —
But State — Endowal — Focus —
Where — Omnipresence — fly?
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 — …
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A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
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There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
All poems by Emily Dickinson →