< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
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POEMS.
XIV.
ASPIRATION.
WE never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise ;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies.
The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king.
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