Emily Dickinson - Morns like these -- we parted
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Morns like these -- we parted -- Noons like these -- she rose -- Fluttering first -- then firmer To her fair repose. Never did she lisp it -- It was not for me -- She -- was mute from transport -- I -- from agony -- Till -- the evening nearing One the curtains drew -- Quick! A Sharper rustling! And this linnet flew! |
