Her spirit rose to such a height
Her spirit rose to such a height Her countenance it did inflate Like one that fed on awe. More prudent to assault the dawn Than merit the ethereal scorn That effervesced from her.
Emily Dickinson
Her spirit rose to such a height Her countenance it did inflate Like one that fed on awe. More prudent to assault the dawn Than merit the ethereal scorn That effervesced from her.
A woman’s spirit climbs so high that her face puffs up, as if her only nourishment is awe. Dickinson doesn’t mean this as a compliment. The image is comically grotesque: a countenance inflated by its own sense of elevation.
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