Emily Dickinson – LXXVII – I GAINED it so

(77)


     I GAINED it so,
     By climbing slow,
By catching at the twigs that grow
Between the bliss and me.
     It hung so high,
     As well the sky
     Attempt by strategy.

 

I said I gained it, —
     This was all.
Look, how I clutch it,
     Lest it fall,
And I a pauper go;
Unfitted by an instant’s grace
For the contented beggar’s face
I wore an hour ago.

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