Emily Dickinson
I’ve known a Heaven, like a Tent
243

I've known a Heaven, like a Tent
To wrap its shining Yards
Pluck up its stakes, and disappear
Without the sound of Boards
Or Rip of Nail—Or Carpenter
But just the miles of Stare
That signalize a Show's Retreat
In North America

No Trace—no Figment of the Thing
That dazzled, Yesterday
No Ring—no Marvel
Men, and Feats
Dissolved as utterly
As Bird's far Navigation
Discloses just a Hue
A plash of Oars, a Gaiety
Then swallowed up, of View