The Whole Of It Came Not At Once
Emily Dickinson
762 The Whole of it came not at once— ’Twas Murder by degrees— A Thrust—and then for Life a chance— The Bliss to cauterize— The Cat reprieves the Mouse She eases from her teeth Just long enough for Hope to tease— Then mashes it to death— ’Tis Life’s award—to die— Contenteder if once— Than dying half—then rallying For consciouser Eclipse—
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