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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 427 of 446 · Third Series: Time and Eternity

Poem 40

— ✻ —

Three weeks passed since I had seen her, --
Some disease had vexed;
'T was with text and village singing
I beheld her next,

And a company -- our pleasure
To discourse alone;
Gracious now to me as any,
Gracious unto none.

Borne, without dissent of either,
To the parish night;
Of the separated people
Which are out of sight?

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