Explore "The Test" by Emily Dickinson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I can wade grief, / Whole pools of it, -- / I 'm used to that.
But the least push of joy / Breaks up my feet, / And I tip -- drunken.
Let no pebble smile, / 'T was the new liquor, -- / That was all!
Power is only pain, / Stranded, through discipline, / Till weights will hang.
Give balm to giants, / And they 'll wilt, like men.
Give Himmaleh, -- / They 'll carry him!