Proud of my broken heart, since thou didst break it.
Proud of the pain, I did not feel? till thee.
Proud of my night, since thou, with moons, dos't shake it.
Not to partake thy passion, -my humility
Thou can'st not boast, like Jesus, drunken without companion
Was the strong cup of anguish brewed for the Nazarene
Thou can'st not pierce tradition with the peerless puncture,
See! I usurped thy crucifix to honor mine!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- I'Ve None To Tell Me To But Thee
- The Show Is Not The Show,
- The White Heat
- Renunciation
- No Matter—now—sweet