large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_1_dickinson_64kb_30
large/7245/poems_seriestwo_la_librivox_64kb_mp3/poemsseriestwo_1_dickinson_64kb
English
7245
XIII. A PRAYER. I meant to have but modest needs, Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even. But since the last included both, It would suffice my prayer But just for one to stipulate, And grace would grant the pair. THIRTEEN A PRAYER I MEANT TO HAVE BUT MODEST NEEDS SUCH AS CONTENT AND HEAVEN WITHIN MY INCOME THESE COULD LIE AND LIFE AND I KEEP EVEN BUT SINCE THE LAST INCLUDED BOTH IT WOULD SUFFICE MY PRAYER BUT JUST FOR ONE TO STIPULATE AND GRACE WOULD GRANT THE PAIR
smile, 'T was the new liquor, -- That was all! Power is only pain, Stranded, through discipline, Till weights will hang. Give balm to giants, And they 'll wilt, like men. Give Himmaleh, -- They 'll carry him! X. ESCAPE. I never hear the word "escape" Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad By soldiers battered down, But I tug childish at my bars, -- Only to fail again! XI. COMPENSATION. For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ecstasy. For each beloved hour Sharp pittances of years, Bitter contested farthings And coffers heaped with tears. XII. THE MARTYRS. Through the straight pass of suffering The martyrs even trod, Their feet upon temptation, Their faces upon God. A stately, shriven company; Convulsion playing round, Harmless as streaks of meteor Upon a planet's bound. Their faith the everlasting troth; Their expectation fair; The needle to the north degree Wades so, through polar air. MY FEET AND I TIP DRUNKEN LET NO PEBBLE SMILE TWAS THE NEW LIQUOR THAT WAS ALL POWER IS ONLY PAIN STRANDED THROUGH DISCIPLINE TILL WEIGHTS WILL HANG GIVE BALM TO GIANTS AND THEY'LL WILT LIKE MEN GIVE HIM A LATE THEY'LL CARRY HIM TEN ESCAPE I NEVER HEAR THE WORD ESCAPE WITHOUT A QUICKER BLOOD A SUDDEN EXPECTATION A FLYING ATTITUDE I NEVER HEAR OF PRISONS BROAD BY SOLDIERS BATTERED DOWN BUT I TUG CHILDISH AT MY BARS ONLY TO FAIL AGAIN ELEVEN COMPENSATION FOR EACH ECSTATIC INSTANT WE MUST IN ANGUISH PAY IN KEEN AND QUIVERING RATIO TO THE ECSTASY FOR EACH BELOVED HOUR SHARP PITTANCES OF YEARS BITTER CONTESTED FARTHINGS AND COFFERS HEAPED WITH TEARS TWELVE THE MARTYRS THROUGH THE STRAIGHT PASS OF SUFFERING THE MARTYRS EVEN TROD THEIR FEET UPON TEMPTATION THEIR FACES UPON GOD A STATELY SHRIVEN COMPANY CONVULSION PLAYING ROUND HARMLESS AS STREAKS OF METEOR UPON A PLANET'S BOUND THEIR FAITH THE EVERLASTING TROTH THEIR EXPECTATION FAIR THE NEEDLE TO THE NORTH DEGREE WEIGHED SO THROUGH POLAR AIR
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