483 <br /> <br />A Solemn thing within the Soul <br />To feel itself get ripe— <br />And golden hang—while farther up— <br />The Maker's Ladders stop— <br />And in the Orchard far below— <br />You hear a Being—drop— <br /> <br />A Wonderful—to feel the Sun <br />Still toiling at the Cheek <br />You thought was finished— <br />Cool of eye, and critical of Work— <br />He shifts the stem—a little— <br />To give your Core—a look— <br /> <br />But solemnest—to know <br />Your chance in Harvest moves <br />A little nearer—Every Sun <br />The Single—to some lives.<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-solemn-thing-within-the-soul/
