Poem

We pray—to Heaven

Emily Dickinson
489 We pray—to Heaven— We prate—of Heaven— Relate—when Neighbors die— At what o'clock to heaven—they fled— Who saw them—Wherefore fly? Is Heaven a Place—a Sky—a Tree? Location's narrow way is for Ourselves— Unto the Dead There's no Geography— But State—Endowal—Focus— Where—Omnipresence—fly?

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