Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series Two by Emily Dickinson
page 23 of 135 (17%)
page 23 of 135 (17%)
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TOO MUCH. I should have been too glad, I see, Too lifted for the scant degree Of life's penurious round; My little circuit would have shamed This new circumference, have blamed The homelier time behind. I should have been too saved, I see, Too rescued; fear too dim to me That I could spell the prayer I knew so perfect yesterday, -- That scalding one, "Sabachthani," Recited fluent here. Earth would have been too much, I see, And heaven not enough for me; I should have had the joy Without the fear to justify, -- The palm without the Calvary; So, Saviour, crucify. Defeat whets victory, they say; The reefs in old Gethsemane Endear the shore beyond. 'T is beggars banquets best define; 'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, -- Faith faints to understand. |
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