COMPENSATION - For each ecstatic instant
For each ecstatic instant / We must an anguish pay
SURRENDER - Doubt me, my dim companion!
❦
Doubt me, my dim companion!
Why, God would be content
With but a fraction of the love
Poured thee without a stint.
The whole of me, forever,
What more the woman can, --
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last delight I own!
It cannot be my spirit,
For that was thine before;
I ceded all of dust I knew, --
What opulence the more
Had I, a humble maiden,
Whose farthest of degree
Was that she might,
Some distant heaven,
Dwell timidly with thee!
More poems by Emily Dickinson
A LITTLE madness in the Spring
A LITTLE madness in the Spring / Is wholesome even for the King,
THE FUNERAL - That short, potential stir
That short, potential stir / That each can make but once,
The distance that the dead have gone
The distance that the dead have gone / Does not at first appear;