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Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.

149

She went as quiet as the Dew
From an Accustomed flower.
Not like the Dew, did she return
At the Accustomed hour!

She dropt as softly as a star
From out my summer's Eve—
Less skillful than Le Verriere
It's sorer to believe!

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 20 Nov 2008 4:34 PM | Viewed: 4958 times

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