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

940

On that dear Frame the Years had worn
Yet precious as the House
In which We first experienced Light
The Witnessing, to Us—

Precious! It was conceiveless fair
As Hands the Grave had grimed
Should softly place within our own
Denying that they died.

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 3 Dec 2008 10:59 PM | Viewed: 4965 times

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