The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;
And then, if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
"the Heart Asks Pleasure First,"
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: heart, pain, sleep, pleasure, excuse, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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