399
A House upon the Height—
That Wagon never reached—
No Dead, were ever carried down—
No Peddler's Cart—approached—
Whose Chimney never smoked—
Whose Windows—Night and Morn—
Caught Sunrise first—and Sunset—last—
Then—held an Empty Pane—
Whose fate—Conjecture knew—
No other neighbor—did—
And what it was—we never lisped—
Because He—never told—
Places that are beyond our reach evoke mysterious emotions and reactions in imagination. Emily Dickinson has portrayed a very vivid reaction to such site. So perfect in few lines.
the heights - too high - can't reach the head, the hands over the emptiness it stands like the pole line - unshaped dead all beneath the roots of it running - driving - tuning with the stormy winds and then losing - and then disappearing the heights - too high; none can reach but the mind - the imaginative mind - the confident faith - all in one day will be Faded glory
This is one of Dickinson's death poems where she told about the stately palace none could be seen coming in and coming out when save the Almighty.......one of the best of all time......10+++
Whose Chimney never smoked— Whose Windows—Night and Morn— Caught Sunrise first—and Sunset—last— Then—held an Empty Pane— Eery atmosphere.
A poem of mystical wonder and spiritual devotion towards the unknown That takes us all on a curious wonder ride.
WOW! ! ! ! ! AWESOME POEMS!