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.
(Emily Dickinson)
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Based on Topics: Sleep Poems, Liberty & Freedom Poems, Suffering Poems, Excuse PoemsBased on Keywords: deaden, inquisitor, anodynes