Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Our journey had advanced;
Our feet were almost come
To that odd fork in Being's road,
Eternity by term.

Our pace took sudden awe,
Our feet reluctant led.
Before were cities, but between,
The forest of the dead.

Retreat was out of hope,--
Behind, a sealed route,
Eternity's white flag before,
And God at every gate.

No comments:

Four Years Later

COVID:2 Collage  Four years ago today we all came home for the lock down. Middle school classes conducted by zoom on the deck, college cours...