Thursday, September 15, 2016

"Joy to have merited the Pain — " by Emily Dickinson




Joy to have merited the Pain 
To merit the Release 
Joy to have perished every step 
To Compass Paradise 

Pardon  to look upon thy face 
With these old fashioned Eyes 
Better than new  could be  for that 
Though bought in Paradise 

Because they looked on thee before 
And thou hast looked on them 
Prove Me  My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same 

So fleet thou wert, when present 
So infinite  when gone 
An Orient's Apparition 
Remanded of the Morn 

The Height I recollect 
'Twas even with the Hills 
The Depth upon my Soul was notched 
As Floods  on Whites of Wheels 

To Haunt  till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,
And Haunting actualize  to last
At least  Eternity