Emily Dickinson
The Heaven vests for Each
694

The Heaven vests for Each
In that small Deity
It craved the grace to worship
Some bashful Summer's Day

Half shrinking from the Glory
It importuned to see
Till these faint Tabernacles drop
In full Eternity

How imminent the Venture
As one should sue a Star
For His mean sake to leave the Row
And entertain Despair

A Clemency so common
We almost cease to fear
Enabling the minutest
And furthest—to adore