Like Eyes That Looked On Wastes
Emily Dickinson
458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night— Just Infinites of Nought— As far as it could see— So looked the face I looked upon— So looked itself—on Me— I offered it no Help— Because the Cause was Mine— The Misery a Compact As hopeless—as divine— Neither—would be absolved— Neither would be a Queen Without the Other—Therefore— We perish—tho’ We reign—
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