Emily Dickinson Poem

Rouge gagne

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‘Tis so much joy!  ‘Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I
Have ventured upon a throw ;
Have gained!  Yes!  Hesitated so
This side the victory!

Life is but life, and death but death!
Bliss is but bliss and breath but breath!
And if, indeed, I fail,
At least to know the worst is sweet.
Defeat means nothing but defeat,
No drearier can prevail!

And if I gain, — oh, gun at sea,
Oh, bells that in the steeples be,
At first repeat it slow!
For heaven is a different thing
Conjectured, and waked sudden in,
And might o’erwhelm me so!

'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe —
'Tis Seasons since the Dimpled War

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