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I reason, Earth is short—
And Anguish—absolute—
And many hurt,
But, what of that?
I reason, we could die—
The best Vitality
Cannot excel Decay,
But, what of that?
I reason, that in Heaven—
Somehow, it will be even—
Some new Equation, given—
But, what of that?
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Nature Is What We See—
- Twas Such A Little—little Boat
- Dropped Into The Ether Acre
- Is Bliss Then, Such Abyss
- They Say That 'Time Assuages,