Monday, September 23, 2013

"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

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