139
Soul, Wilt thou toss again?
By just such a hazard
Hundreds have lost indeed—
But tens have won an all—
Angel's breathless ballot
Lingers to record thee—
Imps in eager Caucus
Raffle for my Soul!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Talk With Prudence To A Beggar
- One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted,
- Unto My Books—so Good To Turn
- That Distance Was Between Us
- Escaping Backward To Perceive