Victory Comes Late

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Title:     Victory Comes Late
Author: Emily Dickinson [More Titles by Dickinson]

Victory comes late,
And is held low to freezing lips
Too rapt with frost
To take it.
How sweet it would have tasted,
Just a drop!
Was God so economical?
His table 's spread too high for us
Unless we dine on tip-toe.
Crumbs fit such little mouths,
Cherries suit robins;
The eagle's golden breakfast
Strangles them.
God keeps his oath to sparrows,
Who of little love
Know how to starve!

[The end]
Emily Dickinson's poem: Victory Comes Late

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