POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
Surfeit? When the daffodil
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!
IV
ELYSIUM is as far as to
The very nearest room,
If in that room a friend await
Felicity or doom.
The very nearest room,
If in that room a friend await
Felicity or doom.
What fortitude the soul contains,
That it can so endure
The accent of a coming foot.
The opening of a door!
That it can so endure
The accent of a coming foot.
The opening of a door!
V
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!
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
For that was thine before;
I ceded all of dust I knew,—
What opulence the more
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