Why make it doubt—it hurts it so

Why make it doubt—it hurts it so—
So sick—to guess—
So strong—to know—
So brave—upon its little Bed
To tell the very last They said
Unto Itself—and smile—And shake—
For that dear—distant—dangerous—Sake—
But—the Instead—the Pinching fear
That Something—it did do—or dare—
Offend the Vision—and it flee—
And They no more remember me—
Nor ever turn to tell me why—
Oh, Master, This is Misery—

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was an American poet. more…

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"Why make it doubt—it hurts it so by Emily Dickinson" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 17 Feb. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/12458>.

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