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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 24 of 446 · First Series: Life

Poem 24

— ✻ —

Whether my bark went down at sea,
Whether she met with gales,
Whether to isles enchanted
She bent her docile sails;

By what mystic mooring
She is held to-day, --
This is the errand of the eye
Out upon the bay.

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