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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 257 of 446 · Second Series: Time and Eternity

Poem 18

— ✻ —

Pompless no life can pass away;
The lowliest career
To the same pageant wends its way
As that exalted here.
How cordial is the mystery!
The hospitable pall
A "this way" beckons spaciously, --
A miracle for all!

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