Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
708 I sometimes drop it, for a Quick— The Thought to be alive— Anonymous Delight to know— And Madder—to conceive— Consoles a Woe so monstrous That did it tear all Day, Without an instant's Respite— 'Twould look too far—to Die—
Added: 30 Sep 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:48 PM | Viewed: 7531 times
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