Emily Dickinson Poems

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I've known a Heaven, like a Tent --
To wrap its shining Yards --
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear --
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail -- Or Carpenter --
But just the miles of Stare --
That signalize a Show's Retreat --
In North America --

No Trace -- no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday,
No Ring -- no Marvel --
Men, and Feats --
Dissolved as utterly --
As Bird's far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue --
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety --
Then swallowed up, of View.

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