Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/Too Much

by Emily Dickinson

I Should have been too glad, I see,
Too lifted for the scant degree
Of life's penurious round ;
My little circuit would have shamed
This new circumference, have blamed
The homelier time behind.

I should have been too saved, I see,
Too rescued ; fear too dim to me
That I could spell the prayer
I knew so perfect yesterday, —
That scalding one, " Sabachthani, "
Recited fluent here.

Earth would have been too much, I see,
And heaven not enough for me ;
I should have had the joy
Without the fear to justify,—
The palm without the Calvary ;
So, Saviour, crucify.

Defeat whets victory, they say;
The reefs in old Gethsemane
Endear the shore beyond.
’T is beggars banquets best define;
’T is thirsting vitalizes wine,—
Faith faints to understand.