Crane asserts that, though Dickinson's poetry lives, to grasp the full harvest she gathered requires from her readers more than wit or love; it demands a recognition of an ultimate truth, "Some reconcilement of remotest mind" to which her poems aspire but which they do not attain. Lacking such faith, her poems, for all their splendors, leave the wealthy places of their origins, Ormus and Ophir, "rubyless" and "chill." Her poems, for herself and for her reader, can lead to sorrow and a grave without immortality.



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