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Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


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Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door 
Red  is the Fires common tint 
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flames conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvils even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs  within 
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge 



Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
  1. Belshazzar Had a Letter
  2. Our Share of Night to Bear
  3. New Feet within My Garden Go
  4. Psalm of the Day
  5. Renunciation


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