Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By EmilyDickinson536 Love
O
I have elected one.
When sense from spirit files away,
And subterfuge is done;
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;
And mists are carved away,—
Behold the atom I preferred
To all the lists of clay!
A
Falter? When the sun
Question if his glory
Be the perfect one.
Doth of the dew:
Even as herself, O friend!
I will of you!
H
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you ’re lagging,
I may remember him!