Daily Emily Dickinson

poems | source | simple

· · ·

                XLVIII.

DESIRE.

Who never wanted, -- maddest joy
  Remains to him unknown:
The banquet of abstemiousness
  Surpasses that of wine.

Within its hope, though yet ungrasped
  Desire's perfect goal,
No nearer, lest reality
  Should disenthrall thy soul.


            
Monday, September 28, 2026
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