Emily Dickinson — To My Wife

Choice of you shuts up that peacock-fan The future was, in which temptingly spread All that elaborative nature can Matchless potential! but unlimited Only so long as I elected nothing Simply to choose stopped all ways up but one And sent the tease-birds from the bushes flapping No future now. I and you now, alone So for your face I have exchanged all faces For your few properties bargained the brisk Baggage, the mask-and-magic-man's regalia Now you become my boredom and my failure Another way of suffering, a risk A heavier-than-air hypostasis


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