Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life
XXXIII
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| DARE you see a soul at the white heat? | |
| Then crouch within the door. | |
| Red is the fire’s common tint; | |
| But when the vivid ore | |
| |
| Has sated flame’s conditions, | 5 |
| Its quivering substance plays | |
| Without a color but the light | |
| Of unanointed blaze. | |
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| Least village boasts its blacksmith, | |
| Whose anvil’s even din | 10 |
| Stands symbol for the finer forge | |
| That soundless tugs within, | |
| |
| Refining these impatient ores | |
| With hammer and with blaze, | |
| Until the designated light | 15 |
| Repudiate the forge. | |
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