Poem A Day

A Pit -- but Heaven over it --

by Emily Dickinson

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 --

Its Circuit just the same.

Seed -- summer -- tomb --

Whose Doom to whom?

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Poem A Day

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