Nothing New

The great writers, one piece at a time.

Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 295 of 446 · Third Series: Life

Aspiration

— ✻ —

We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies.

The heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp For fear to be a king.

Receive Emily Dickinson one poem at a time, every morning.
Subscribe →