A Solemn Thing Within The Soul

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A Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe—
And golden hang—while farther up—
The Maker's Ladders stop—
And in the Orchard far below—
You hear a Being—drop—

A Wonderful—to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished—
Cool of eye, and critical of Work—
He shifts the stem—a little—
To give your Core—a look—

But solemnest—to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer—Every Sun
The Single—to some lives.

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (4)

cant tell what it means old words and sayings
To some lives! To care and share. Nice piece of work.
.........a fascinating and excellent write...adding to my faves ★
Oooooh very nice poem. I like it!