Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two by Emily Dickinson
page 14 of 135 (10%)
page 14 of 135 (10%)
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ESCAPE.
I never hear the word "escape" Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad By soldiers battered down, But I tug childish at my bars, -- Only to fail again! XI. COMPENSATION. For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy. For each beloved hour Sharp pittances of years, Bitter contested farthings And coffers heaped with tears. |
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