Daily Emily Dickinson

poems | source | simple

· · ·

                XXVI.

I lived on dread; to those who know
The stimulus there is
In danger, other impetus
Is numb and vital-less.

As 't were a spur upon the soul,
A fear will urge it where
To go without the spectre's aid
Were challenging despair.


            
Thursday, September 10, 2026
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