We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies.
The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king.
Aspiration.
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
(2)
Poem topics: fear, never, king, rise, touch, true, high, plan, daily, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Aspiration. poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
Best Poems of Emily Elizabeth Dickinson