Friday, August 24, 2007

classic poem

I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way.

The wealth might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great purchaser suspect:
The daily own of Love

Depreciates the vision;
But, till the merchant buy,
Still able, in the isles of spice,
The subtle cargoes lie.

At least, 't is mutual rush,
Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life, each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.
-emily dickinson

I think my favorite line by her is "some take the Sabbath going to church/I keep it staying at home/with a bobolink for a chorister/and an orchard for a dome."

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