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Home  »  The Complete Poems  »  XCVII

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Part One: Life

XCVII

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.