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Your Riches -- taught me -- Poverty. by Emily Dickinson
Your Riches -- taught me -- Poverty. Myself -- a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast Till broad as Buenos Ayre --
You drifted your Dominions -- A Different Peru -- And I esteemed All Poverty For Life's Estate with you --
Of Mines, I little know -- myself -- But just the names, of Gems -- The Colors of the Commonest -- And scarce of Diadems --
So much, that did I meet the Queen -- Her Glory I should know -- But this, must be a different Wealth -- To miss it -- beggars so --
I'm sure 'tis India -- all Day -- To those who look on You -- Without a stint -- without a blame, Might I -- but be the Jew --
I'm sure it is Golconda -- Beyond my power to deem -- To have a smile for Mine -- each Day, How better, than a Gem!
At least, it solaces to know That there exists -- a Gold -- Altho' I prove it, just in time Its distance -- to behold --
Its far -- far Treasure to surmise -- And estimate the Pearl -- That slipped my simple fingers through -- While just a Girl at School.
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