 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
148
X.
IMMORTALITY.
It is an honorable thought,
And makes one lift one's hat,
As one encountered gentlefolk
Upon a daily street,
And makes one lift one's hat,
As one encountered gentlefolk
Upon a daily street,
That we've immortal place,
Though pyramids decay,
And kingdoms, like the orchard,
Flit russetly away.
Though pyramids decay,
And kingdoms, like the orchard,
Flit russetly away.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |