by Emily Dickinson
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay.
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
- Share this Poem:
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay.
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
