Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Pain

PAIN--has an Element of Blank--
It cannot recollect
When it begun--or if there were
A time when it was not--

It has no Future--but itself--
Its Infinite Contain
Its Past--enlightened to perceive
New Periods--of Pain. 

1. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
2. Desire
3. Lay This Laurel on the One
4. Is Bliss, Then, Such Abyss
5. Thanksgiving Day

Sara Teasdale Pain ("Waves are the sea's white daughters")

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