by Emily Dickinson
359
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-
Last updated June 21, 2015