As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear,
As for the lost we grapple,
Though all the rest are here, --
In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize,
Vast, in its fading ratio,
To our penurious eyes!
E-Text
Emily Dickinson's Collected Poems
Part Four: Time and Eternity 52. As by the dead we love to sit
