499 <br /> <br />Those fair—fictitious People— <br />The Women—plucked away <br />From our familiar Lifetime— <br />The Men of Ivory— <br /> <br />Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas— <br />Who stay upon the Wall <br />In Everlasting Keepsake— <br />Can Anybody tell? <br /> <br />We trust—in places perfecter— <br />Inheriting Delight <br />Beyond our faint Conjecture— <br />Our dizzy Estimate— <br /> <br />Remembering ourselves, we trust— <br />Yet Blesseder—than We— <br />Through Knowing—where We only hope— <br />Receiving—where we—pray— <br /> <br />Of Expectation—also— <br />Anticipating us <br />With transport, that would be a pain <br />Except for Holiness— <br /> <br />Esteeming us—as Exile— <br />Themself—admitted Home— <br />Through easy Miracle of Death— <br />The Way ourself, must come—<br /><br />Emily Dickinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-fair-fictitious-people/
