Pain has an element of blank
Plus a little oxygen
And perhaps some bronze,—
Basically all the chemical elements.
It has no other pieces but those,
In addition to a dram of bile—
And a bit of transcendentalum—
Wait—let me think more a while.
The original (as written by Dickinson).
The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little dynamos
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to bed;
And then, using lightning
From atop the castle’s spire,
A monster brain, awakening.
The monster-less version—or, more accurately, the alternate monster. Not to be confused with the song from the 1993 movie “The Piano.”
Except the smaller size, no apples are round,
These hurry to a sphere, and show, and end.
The larger, slower grow, and later hang,—
Then fall on your head—whang.
The final version here.