A solemn thing—it was—I said (483) Emily Dickinson
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "A solemn thing—it was—I said (483)" by Emily Dickinson. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
A Solemn thing within the Soul
To feel itself get ripe—
And golden hang—while farther up—
The Maker's Ladders stop—
And in the Orchard far below—
You hear a Being—drop—
A Wonderful—to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished—
Cool of eye, and critical of Work—
He shifts the stem—a little—
To give your Core—a look—
But solemnest—to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer—Every Sun
The Single—to some lives.
To feel itself get ripe—
And golden hang—while farther up—
The Maker's Ladders stop—
And in the Orchard far below—
You hear a Being—drop—
A Wonderful—to feel the Sun
Still toiling at the Cheek
You thought was finished—
Cool of eye, and critical of Work—
He shifts the stem—a little—
To give your Core—a look—
But solemnest—to know
Your chance in Harvest moves
A little nearer—Every Sun
The Single—to some lives.
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