Read more poems by Emily Dickinson: Emily Dickinson Poems at Poetry X.
1646 Why should we hurry—why indeed? When every way we fly We are molested equally By immortality. No respite from the inference That this which is begun, Though where its labors lie A bland uncertainty Besets the sight This mighty night— Edited by Peter Carter
Added: 2 Apr 2003 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 5:52 PM | Viewed: 7382 times
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