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The Service without Hope—
Is tenderest, I think—
Because 'tis unsustained
By stint—Rewarded Work—
Has impetus of Gain—
And impetus of Goal—
There is no Diligence like that
That knows not an Until—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- If Anybody's Friend Be Dead
- The Beggar Lad&Mdash;Dies Early
- The Manner Of Its Death
- The Hallowing Of Pain
- The Only News I Know