I Sometimes Drop It, for a Quick, por Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

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—

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