Monday, June 16, 2008


Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,
Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,
Too fair
For credibility’s temerity
To dare.
Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow’s raiment
To touch,
Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;
How high
Unto the saints’ slow diligence
The sky!
Ungained, it may be, by a life’s low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring

Emily Dickinson, 61.


Moflo said...

What a perfect poem you chose to go with the picture. Emily Dickinson is one of my favorites, and the emotion expressed somehow fits exactly with the art.

runnerfrog said...

Very glad you like it, M.

Blog Archive