Page:Emily Dickinson Poems (1890).djvu/55

 V.

SURRENDER

OUBT me, my dim companion! Why, God would be content With but a fraction of the love Poured thee without a stint. The whole of me, forever, What more the woman can,— Say quick, that I may dower thee With last delight I own!

It cannot be my spirit, For that was thine before; I ceded all of dust I knew,— What opulence the more Had I, a humble maiden, Whose farthest of degree Was that she might, Some distant heaven, Dwell timidly with thee!