I sometimes drop it, for a Quick

708

I sometimes drop it, for a Quick—
The Thought to be alive—
Anonymous Delight to know—
And Madder—to conceive—

Consoles a Woe so monstrous
That did it tear all Day,
Without an instant's Respite—
'Twould look too far—to Die—

poem by Emily Dickinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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