Joy to have merited the Pain

Joy to have merited the Pain—
To merit the Release—
Joy to have perished every step—
To Compass Paradise—
Pardon—to look upon thy face—
With these old fashioned Eyes—
Better than new—
could be
—for that
—Though bought in Paradise—
Because they looked on thee before—
And thou hast looked on them—
Prove Me—
My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same—
So fleet thou wert, when present—
So infinite—when gone—
An Orient's Apparition—
Remanded of the Morn—
The Height I recollect—
'Twas even with the Hills—
The Depth upon my Soul was notched—
As Floods—
on Whites of Wheels—
To Haunt—
till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,And Haunting actualize—
to last
At least—
Eternity—

By Emily Dickinson


"My favorite poet. See how islamic the poem is, yet written by a Christian. The only big mistake in this masterpiece, owh Emily, none of us can ever last till eternity...

You died Emily. Others did. Others will."