Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/90

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GAINED it so,
 * By climbing slow,

By catching at the twigs that grow Between the bliss and me.
 * It hung so high,
 * As well the sky
 * Attempt by strategy.

I said I gained it, —
 * This was all.

Look, how I clutch it,
 * Lest it fall,

And I a pauper go; Unfitted by an instant's grace For the contented beggar's face I wore an hour ago.