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For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years —
Bitter contested farthings —
And Coffers heaped with Tears!
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There’s the Protestant ethos in a nutshell.
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I still find few poets as insightful as Emily Dickinson. Maybe it’s because we read a lot of her work in high school, but she’s still my favorite.
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Thanks, Kim. Whitman, Dickinson and Frost are still the best, I think.
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As for ecstatic moments that Emily writes about. That was then. Harder times. Some of us can have them fairly requently in our more prosperous world.
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That was then. Not so much for some of us now.
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couldn’t share, blocked
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I’m not sure what’s going on, Betsy. It may be a technical glitch, or it may be something more sinister.
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