Two of my favorite Emily Dickinson poems are rather depressing, though the fact that they are so good is a countervailing force that cheers me up. The second of these in particular is quite wonderful.
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 –
**
Finding is the first Act
The second, loss,
Third, Expedition for
The "Golden Fleece"
Fourth, no Discovery --
Fifth, no Crew --
Finally, no Golden Fleece --
Jason -- sham -- too.
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