I Can Wade Grief
252
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-
'Twas the New Liquor-
That was all!
Power is only Pain-
Stranded, thro' Discipline,
Till Weights-will hang-
Give Balm-to Giants-
And they'll wilt, like Men-
Give Himmaleh-
They'll Carry-Him!
Emily Dickinson
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