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Bound—a trouble—
And lives can bear it!
Limit—how deep a bleeding go!
So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—
Deal with the soul
As with Algebra!
Tell it the Ages—to a cypher—
And it will ache—contented—on—
Sing&mdas h;at its pain—as any Workman—
Notching the fall of the Even Sun!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Finite—to Fail, But Infinite To Venture
- Between My Country—and The Others
- It Is An Honorable Thought,
- As The Starved Maelstrom Laps The Navies
- Best Things Dwell Out Of Sight
