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Read the poem: “Is bliss, then, such abyss”

by Emily Dickinson

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American LiteratureAmerican PoetryEmily Dickinson
< < < Is Heaven a physician?
It can’t be summer, — that got through > > >


Is bliss, then, such abyss


Is bliss, then, such abyss

I must not put my foot amiss

For fear I spoil my shoe?


I’d rather suit my foot

Than save my boot,

For yet to buy another pair

Is possible

At any fair.


But bliss is sold just once;

The patent lost

None buy it any more.



< < < Is Heaven a physician?
It can’t be summer, — that got through > > >

American LiteratureAmerican PoetryEmily Dickinson



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