The Poems of Emily Dickinson, Variorum Edition, Franklin, 1998
Emily Dickinson Archive
A Pit - but Heaven over it -And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad; And yet a Pit - With Heaven over it. To stir would be to slip -To look would be to drop - To dream - to sap the Prop That holds my chances up. Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!The depth is all my thought -I dare not ask my feet - 'Twould start us where we sit So straight you'd scarce suspect It was a Pit - with fathoms under it ItsIt's Circuit just the sameWhose Doom to whom 'Twould start them - We - could tremble - But since we got a Bomb - And held it in our Bosom -Nay - Hold it - it is calm -