Birthday of but a single pang
Birthday of but a single pang,
That there are less to come—
Afflictive is the adjective
Though affluent the doom.

Birthday of but a single pang,
That there are less to come—
Afflictive is the adjective
Though affluent the doom.
Von Emily Dickinson
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 privilege to die—
Von Emily Dickinson
It’s all I have to bring to-day—
This, and my heart beside—
This, and my heart, and all the fields—
And all the meadows wide—
Be sure you count—should I forget—
Some one the sum could tell—
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.