POEMS OF EMILY DICKINSON
Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less Than I reviled myselfFor entertaining plated wares Upon my silver shelf.
CXIX
TO lose one’s faith surpasses The loss of an estate,Because estates can be Replenished,—faith cannot.
Inherited with life, Belief but once can be;Annihilate a single clause, And Being’s beggary.
CXX
I HAD a daily bliss I half indifferent viewed,Till sudden I perceived it stir,— It grew as I pursued,
Till when, around a crag, It wasted from my sight,Enlarged beyond my utmost scope, I learned its sweetness right.
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