Explore "A Poor Torn Heart, a Tattered Heart" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A poor torn heart, a tattered heart, / That sat it down to rest, / Nor noticed that the ebbing day / Flowed silver to the west, / Nor noticed night did soft descend / Nor constellation burn, / Intent upon the vision / Of latitudes unknown.
The angels, happening that way, / This dusty heart espied; / Tenderly took it up from toil / And carried it to God.
There, -- sandals for the barefoot; / There, -- gathered from the gales, / Do the blue havens by the hand / Lead the wandering sails.