242 <br /> <br />When we stand on the tops of Things— <br />And like the Trees, look down— <br />The smoke all cleared away from it— <br />And Mirrors on the scene— <br /> <br />Just laying light—no soul will wink <br />Except it have the flaw— <br />The Sound ones, like the Hills—shall stand— <br />No Lighting, scares away— <br /> <br />The Perfect, nowhere be afraid— <br />They bear their dauntless Heads, <br />Where others, dare not go at Noon, <br />Protected by their deeds— <br /> <br />The Stars dare shine occasionally <br />Upon a spotted World— <br />And Suns, go surer, for their Proof, <br />As if an Axle, held—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-we-stand-on-the-tops-of-things/
