Surrender. By Emily Dickinson

    Doubt me, my dim companion!
    Why, God would be content
    With but a fraction of the love
    Poured thee without a stint.
    The whole of me, forever,
    What more the woman can, —
    Say quick, that I may dower thee
    With last delight I own!

    It cannot be my spirit,
    For that was thine before;
    I ceded all of dust I knew, —
    What opulence the more
    Had I, a humble maiden,
    Whose farthest of degree
    Was that she might,
    Some distant heaven,
    Dwell timidly with thee!