< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
This page needs to be proofread.
1 72 POEMS.
��XXXIV.
O UPERFLUOUS were the sun
- When excellence is dead ;
He were superfluous every day, For every day is said
That syllable whose faith Just saves it from despair,
And whose ' I '11 meet you ' hesitates If love inquire, ' Where ? '
Upon his dateless fame
Our periods may lie, As stars that drop anonymous
From an abundant sky.
�� �
This article is issued from
Wikisource.
The text is licensed under Creative
Commons - Attribution - Sharealike.
Additional terms may apply for the media files.