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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 164 of 446 · Second Series: Life

Poem 49

— ✻ —

This merit hath the worst, --
It cannot be again.
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown her furthest stone,

The maimed may pause and breathe,
And glance securely round.
The deer invites no longer
Than it eludes the hound.

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