Love, thou are deep:
I cannot cross thee.
But, were there Two
Instead of One —
Rower, and Yacht — some sovereign Summer —
Who knows, but we’d reach the Sun?

Love, thou are Veiled:
A few behold thee,
Smile, and alter, and prattle, and die.
Bliss were an Oddity, without thee,
Nicknamed by God


From Emily Dickinson, Love, thou art high



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