On my volcano grows the Grass: Poem by Emily Dickinson

On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot -
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought -

How red the Fire rocks below -
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude.

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More poems by Emily Dickinson

The Devil - had he fidelity
Not Sickness stains the Brave,
I thought the Train would never come
A Spider sewed at Night
Tell as a Marksman - were forgotten