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The Heart Asks
by Emily  Dickinson

The heart asks pleasure first
And then, excuse from pain;
And then those little anodynes
That deaden suffering,

And then to go to sleep
And then, if it should be,
The will of its Inquisitor
The liberty to die!
        
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Poem ID: 260   Poem Posted: 11/16/1997
Viewed: 466966  Voted On: 5448  E-mailed: 938  Commented On: 23
 
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