Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;

And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.

1. The Riddle We Can Guess
2. Playmates
3. Resurgam
4. The Martyrs
5. Surgeons Must Be Very Careful

Print

1872 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version