E-Text

Emily Dickinson's Collected Poems

Part One: Life 135. Is bliss, then, such abyss

Is bliss, then, such abyss

I must not put my foot amiss

For fear I spoil my shoe?


I'd rather suit my foot

Than save my boot,

For yet to buy another pair

Is possible

At any fair.


But bliss is sold just once;

The patent lost

None buy it any more.