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I gave myself to him, And took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life Was ratified this way The value might disappoint, Myself a poorer prove Than this my purchaser suspect, The daily own of Love Depreciates the sight; But, 'til the merchant buy, Still fabled, 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.
by Emily Dickinson
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