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Emily Dickinson
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Page 20
Emily Dickinson
Mine enemy is growing old
Death is like the insect
A Sickness Of This World It Most Occasions
I Saw The Wind Within Her
A Wind That Rose
The Earth Has Many Keys
Out Of Sight? What Of That?
He Preached Upon ‘Breadth’ Till It Argued Him Narrow —
September’s Baccalaureate
The Duties Of The Wind Are Few
The inundation of the Spring
A Pang is more conspicuous in Spring
Whole Gulfs – of Red, and Fleets
The Road Was Lit With Moon And Star
There Is A Morn By Men Unseen
I’Ve Nothing Else—to Bring, You Know
These Tested Our Horizon
From The Chrysalis
I Sing To Use The Waiting
The Night Was Wide, And Furnished Scant
Who Court Obtain Within Himself
Of Brussels—it Was Not
I Want—it Pleaded—all Its Life—
The Grace—myself—might Not Obtain
No Bobolink—reverse His Singing
I Noticed People Disappeared
All Men For Honor Hardest Work
It Would Never Be Common—more—i Said
The Spider as an Artist
I Would Distil A Cup
These—saw Visions
The Butterfly’s Assumption Gown
The Battlefield
Tis Anguish Grander Than Delight
Low At My Problem Bending
I Sometimes Drop It, For A Quick
Kill Your Balm—and Its Odors Bless You
They Ask But Our Delight
I am afraid to own a Body
Part Five: The Single Hound
Faithful To The End Amended
To Flee From Memory
Least Rivers—docile To Some Sea
They Have A Little Odor—that To Me
There Are Two Ripenings—one—of Sight
What Shall I Do—it Whimpers So
The Himmaleh Was Known To Stoop
This That Would Greet—an Hour Ago
On That Dear Frame The Years Had Worn
Heavenly Father
Reverse Cannot Befall
The Words The Happy Say
I Have No Life But This
Mute Thy Coronation
This Bauble Was Preferred Of Bees
We Met As Sparks—diverging Flints
Tis True They Shut Me In The Cold
No Prisoner Be
There Is A June When Corn Is Cut
This Merit Hath The Worst
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