I Can Wade Grief

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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—
'Twas the New Liquor—
That was all!

Power is only Pain—
Stranded, thro' Discipline,
Till Weights—will hang—
Give Balm—to Giants—
And they'll wilt, like Men—
Give Himmaleh—
They'll Carry—Him!

by Emily Dickinson

Comments (2)

A variation on the Petrarchan sonnet, with a 9-line octave and 7-line sestet'. Is the problem grief and the resolution faith? And is the final Him Christ? I think more complex, just like it's a sonnet plus.
I can't grasp it..........