Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
907 Till Death—is narrow Loving— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness—be spent— But He whose loss procures you Such Destitution that Your Life too abject for itself Thenceforward imitate— Until—Resemblance perfect— Yourself, for His pursuit Delight of Nature—abdicate— Exhibit Love—somewhat—
Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 4:48 PM | Viewed: 8003 times
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