To pile like Thunder to its close
Then crumble grand away
While Everything created hid
This — would be Poetry —
Or Love — the two coeval come —
We both and neither prove —
Experience either and consume —
For None see God and live —
(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)