A Pit (Emily Dickinson)

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 --
It’s Circuit just the same.
Seed -- summer -- tomb --
Whose tomb to whom?

-- #1712