Is bliss, then, such abyss
Is bliss, then, such abyss / I must not put my foot amiss
A SNAKE - Sweet is the swamp with its secrets
❦
Sweet is the swamp with its secrets,
Until we meet a snake;
'T is then we sigh for houses,
And our departure take
At that enthralling gallop
That only childhood knows.
A snake is summer's treason,
And guile is where it goes.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
Who has not found the heaven below
Who has not found the heaven below / Will fail of it above.
A light exists in spring
A light exists in spring / Not present on the year
SUPERIORITY TO FATE - Superiority to fate
Superiority to fate / Is difficult to learn.