A Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe —
And golden hang — while farther up —
The Maker’s Ladders stop —
And in the Orchard far below —
You hear a Being — drop —
A Wonderful — to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished —
Cool of eye, and critical of Work —
He shifts the stem — a little —
To give your Core — a look —
But solemnest — to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer — Every Sun
The Single — to some lives.
(Emily Dickinson)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Soul Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Work & Career PoemsBased on Keywords: finished, nearer, core, chance, wonderful, stem, ripe, harvest, maker, orchard, shifts