To lose thee, sweeter than to gain
All other hearts I knew.
Tis true the drought is destitute
But, then, I had the dew!
The Caspian has its realms of sand,
Its other realm of sea.
Without this sterile perquisite
No Caspian could be.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- To Own The Art Within The Soul
- 'Twas The Old—road—through Pain
- Take Your Heaven Further On
- My Friend Must Be A Bird
- Triumph—may Be Of Several Kinds