Author Emily Dickinson For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour Sharp pittances of years, Bitter contested farthings And coffers heaped with tears. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments