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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 179 of 446 · Second Series: Love

Poem 7

— ✻ —

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port, --
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

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