On that dear Frame the Years had worn
Yet precious as the House
In which We first experienced Light
The Witnessing, to Us —
Precious! It was conceiveless fair
As Hands the Grave had grimed
Should softly place within our own
Denying that they died.
(Emily Dickinson)
More Poetry from Emily Dickinson:
- Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Sic transit gloria mundi (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- I cannot live with You (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- The Wind begun to knead the Grass (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- One Year ago-jots what? (Emily Dickinson Poems)
- Your Riches - taugh (Emily Dickinson Poems)