Poemsby Emily Dickinson

Too Much

 I should have been too glad, I see, Too lifted for the scant degree    Of life's penurious round; My little circuit would have shamed This new circumference, have blamed    The homelier time behind. 
 I should have been too saved, I see, Too rescued; fear too dim to me    That I could spell the prayer I knew so perfect yesterday, - That scalding one, "Sabachthani,"    Recited fluent here. 
 Earth would have been too much, I see, And heaven not enough for me;    I should have had the joy Without the fear to justify, - The palm without the Calvary;    So, Saviour, crucify. 
 Defeat whets victory, they say; The reefs in old Gethsemane    Endear the shore beyond. 'T is beggars banquets best define; 'T is thirsting vitalizes wine, -    Faith faints to understand.