Further Poems of Emily Dickinson/"Till death" is narrow loving;

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"Till death" is narrow loving;
The scantiest heart extant
Will hold you, till your
Privilege
Of finiteness be spent.

But he whose loss procures you
Such destitution that
Your life, too abject for itself,
Thenceforward imitate—

Until, resemblance perfect,
Yourself for his pursuit
Delight of nature abdicate,
Exhibit love somewhat.

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