Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life XXXV |
| I CAN wade grief, | |
| Whole pools of it,— | |
| I ’m used to that. | |
| But the least push of joy | |
| Breaks up my feet, | 5 |
| And I tip—drunken. | |
| Let no pebble smile, | |
| ’T was the new liquor,— | |
| That was all! | |
| Power is only pain, | 10 |
| Stranded, through discipline, | |
| Till weights will hang. | |
| Give balm to giants, | |
| And they ’ll wilt, like men. | |
| Give Himmaleh,— | 15 |
| They ’ll carry him! |
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