Emily Dickinson

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate.

God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven read more

God preaches, a noted clergyman,
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I'm going all along.

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large read more

And so upon this wise I prayed,--
Great Spirit, give to me
A heaven not so large as yours
But large enough for me.

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake read more

A wounded deer leaps highest,
I've heard the hunter tell;
'Tis but the ecstasy of death,
And then the brake is still.
The smitten rock that gushes,
The trampled steel that springs,,
A cheek is always redder
Just where the hectic stings
Mirth is mail of anguish,
In which its cautious arm
Lest anybody spy the blood
And, you're hurt exclaim.