Emily Dickinson

Fitter To See Him, I May Be

poem 968

Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance Grace to Me With Summers, and with Winters, grow, Some passing Year A trait bestow To make Me fairest of the Earth The Waiting then will seem so worth I shall impute with half a pain The blame that I was chosen then Time to anticipate His Gaze It’s first Delight and then Surprise The turning o’er and o’er my face For Evidence it be the Grace He left behind One Day So less He seek Conviction, That be This I only must not grow so new That He’ll mistake and ask for me Of me when first unto the Door I go to Elsewhere go no more I only must not change so fair He’ll sigh The Other She is Where? The Love, tho’, will array me right I shall be perfect in His sight If He perceive the other Truth Upon an Excellenter Youth How sweet I shall not lack in Vain But gain thro’ loss Through Grief obtain The Beauty that reward Him best The Beauty of Demand at Rest

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