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Emily Dickinson

Pain -- has an Element of Blank --
It cannot recollect
When it begun -- or if there were
A time when it was not --

It has no Future -- but itself --
Its Infinite contain Its
Past -- enlightened to perceive
New Periods -- of Pain.

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It struck me -- every Day --
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through --

It burned Me -- in the Night --
It Blistered to My Dream --
It sickened fresh upon my sight --
With every Morn that came --

I though that Storm -- was brief --
The Maddest -- quickest by --
But Nature lost the Date of This --
And left it in the Sky --

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The first Day's Night had come --
And grateful that a thing
So terrible -- had been endured --
I told my Soul to sing --

She said her Strings were snapt --
Her Bow -- to Atoms blown --
And so to mend her -- gave me work
Until another Morn --

And then -- a Day as huge
As Yesterdays in pairs,
Unrolled its horror in my face --
Until it blocked my eyes --

My Brain -- begun to laugh --
I mumbled -- like a fool --
And tho' 'tis Years ago -- that Day --
My Brain keeps giggling -- still.

And Something's odd -- within --
That person that I was --
And this One -- do not feel the same --
Could it be Madness -- this?

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For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ration
To the ecstasy.

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Unable are the Loved to die
For Love is Immortality.

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