Ourselves We Do Inter With Sweet Derision

Emily Dickinson

1144

Ourselves we do inter with sweet derision.
The channel of the dust who once achieves
Invalidates the balm of that religion
That doubts as fervently as it believes.

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Ourselves Were Wed One Summer-dear
• Emily Dickinson : Out Of Sight? What Of That?
• Emily Dickinson : Over And Over, Like A Tune
• Emily Dickinson : Over The Fence
• Emily Dickinson : Pain Has An Element Of Blank;
• Emily Dickinson : Pain Has But One Acquaintance
• Emily Dickinson : Pain-expands The Time
• Emily Dickinson : Papa Above!
• Emily Dickinson : Paradise Is Of The Option
• Emily Dickinson : Paradise Is That Old Mansion

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : Our Share Of Night To Bear
• Emily Dickinson : Our Own Possessions-though Our Own-
• Emily Dickinson : Our Lives Are Swiss-
• Emily Dickinson : Our Little Secrets Slink Away-
• Emily Dickinson : Our Little Kinsmen-after Rain
• Emily Dickinson : Our Journey Had Advanced;
• Emily Dickinson : Opinion Is A Flitting Thing
• Emily Dickinson : Only God-detect The Sorrow
• Emily Dickinson : Only A Shrine, But Mine
• Emily Dickinson : One Year Ago-jots What?