A Pit — but Heaven over it –
And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad,
And yet a Pit –
With Heaven over it.

To stir would be to slip –
To look would be to drop –
To dream — to sap the Prop
That holds my chances up.
Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!

The depth is all my thought –
I dare not ask my feet –
‘Twould start us where we sit
So straight you’d scarce suspect
It was a Pit — with fathoms under it –
Its Circuit just the same.
Seed — summer — tomb –
Whose Doom to whom?
-Emily Dickinson