If Your Nerve, Deny You, par Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

If Your Nerve, Deny You

292

If your Nerve, deny you—

Go above your Nerve—

He can lean against the Grave,

If he fear to swerve—

That’s a steady posture—

Never any bend

Held of those Brass arms—

Best Giant made—

If your Soul seesaw—

Lift the Flesh door—

The Poltroon wants Oxygen—

Nothing more—

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Emily Dickinson