They Leave Us With The Infinite

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They leave us with the Infinite.
But He-is not a man-
His fingers are the size of fists-
His fists, the size of men-

And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand-
Gibraltar's Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,

So trust him, Comrade-
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.

Emily Dickinson The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.