Emily Dickinson — To learn the Transport by the Pain

167 To learn the Transport by the Pain As Blind Men learn the sun! To die of thirst—suspecting That Brooks in Meadows run! To stay the homesick—homesick feet Upon a foreign shore Haunted by native lands, the while And blue—beloved air! This is the Sovereign Anguish! This—the signal woe! These are the patient "Laureates" Whose voices—trained—below Ascend in ceaseless Carol Inaudible, indeed To us—the duller scholars Of the Mysterious Bard!