Explore "Their Height in Heaven Comforts Not" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Their height in heaven comforts not, / Their glory nought to me; / 'T was best imperfect, as it was; / I 'm finite, I can't see.
The house of supposition, / The glimmering frontier / That skirts the acres of perhaps, / To me shows insecure.
The wealth I had contented me; / If 't was a meaner size, / Then I had counted it until / It pleased my narrow eyes
Better than larger values, / However true their show; / This timid life of evidence / Keeps pleading, "I don't know. "