Poem

Till Death—is narrow Loving

Emily Dickinson
907 Till Death—is narrow Loving— The scantest Heart extant Will hold you till your privilege Of Finiteness—be spent— But He whose loss procures you Such Destitution that Your Life too abject for itself Thenceforward imitate— Until—Resemblance perfect— Yourself, for His pursuit Delight of Nature—abdicate— Exhibit Love—somewhat—

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