If pain for peace prepares
Lo, what “Augustan” years
Our feet await!
If springs from winter rise,
Can the Anemones
Be reckoned up?
If night stands fast — then noon
To gird us for the sun,
What gaze!
When from a thousand skies
On our developed eyes
Noons blaze!
This life foreshadows heavenly glory.
this poem is nice
i like all of Emily Dickinson’s poems