Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?

by Emily Dickinson

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 vanquished Flame's conditions
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.

Least Village boasts its Blacksmith,
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs - within -

Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge -


Monadnock Valley Press > Dickinson