Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Surrender

Doubt me, my dim companion!
Why, God would be content
With but a fraction of the love
Poured thee without a stint.
The whole of me, forever,
What more the woman can, --
Say quick, that I may dower thee
With last delight I own!

It cannot be my spirit,
For that was thine before;
I ceded all of dust I knew, --
What opulence the more
Had I, a humble maiden,
Whose farthest of degree
Was that she might,
Some distant heaven,
Dwell timidly with thee!

Sift her, from Brow to Barefoot!
Strain till your last Surmise —
Drop, like a Tapestry, away,
Before the Fire's Eyes —
Winnow her finest fondness —
But hallow just the snow
Intact, in Everlasting flake —
Oh, Caviler, for you!

1. Ventures
2. Philosophy
3. This Merit Hath the Worst
4. Contrast
5. Disenchantment

Edith Nesbit Surrender ("OH, the nights were dark and cold")

Print

2849 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version