This week, when needing to console a grieving friend, I found this poem by Emily Dickinson that said exactly the right words, in just the right way. I love this. I love Emilys.
"Our share of night to bear,
Our share of morning,
Our blank in bliss to fill,
Our blank in scorning.
Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way.
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards—day!"
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1 comment:
"We grow not older with years but newer everyday"
Thats my most favorite thing she ever said!
She really was great!
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