Collected Poems

by Emily Dickinson

Here a star, and there a star, Some lose their way.

Life is but life, and death but death! Bliss is but bliss, and breath but breath! And if, indeed, I fail, At least to know the worst is sweet.

Defeat means nothing but defeat, No drearier can prevail!

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself, Its infinite realms contain Its past, enlightened to perceive New periods of pain.