by Emily Dickinson
I gave myself to him
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of a life
Was ratified this way
The value might disappoint
Myself a poorer prove
Than this my purchaser suspect
The daily own of love.
Depreciates the sight
But, 'till the merchant buy,
Still fabled, in the isles of spice
The subtle cargoes lie.
At least, "'tis mutual risk"
(Some found it mutual gain)
Sweet debt of life -each night to owe,
Insolvent every noon!
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