Life XXXV. I can wade grief, by Emily Dickinson | poems, essays, and short stories in Poeticous

Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Life XXXV. I can wade grief

Part One: Life

XXXV

I CAN wade grief,

Whole pools of it,—

I ’m used to that.

But the least push of joy

Breaks up my feet,

And I tip—drunken.

Let no pebble smile,

’T was the new liquor,—

That was all!

Power is only pain,

Stranded, through discipline,

Till weights will hang.

Give balm to giants,

And they ’ll wilt, like men.

Give Himmaleh,—

They ’ll carry him!

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