I gave myself to him,
And took himself for pay.
The solemn contract of life
Was ratified this way.
The wealth might disappoint,
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great purchaser suspect:
The daily own of Love
Depreciate the vision;
But, till the merchant buy,
Still fable, in the isles of spice,
The subtle cargoes lie.
At least, 'tis mutual risk, —
Some found it mutual gain;
Sweet debt of Life, — each night to owe,
Insolvent, every noon.
Emily Dickinson
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