Emily Dickinson

(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts)

The White Heat - Poem by Emily Dickinson

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Re[f]ining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Untile the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge

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Read poems about / on: red, fire, light

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 15, 2001

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 15, 2001

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