Not In This World To See His Face

Emily Dickinson

418

Not in this World to see his face—
Sounds long—until I read the place
Where this—is said to be
But just the Primer—to a life—
Unopened—rare—Upon the Shelf—
Clasped yet—to Him—and Me—

And yet—My Primer suits me so
I would not choose—a Book to know
Than that—be sweeter wise—
Might some one else—so learned—be—
And leave me—just my A—B—C—
Himself—could have the Skies—

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