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Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Five: The Single Hound CXLII |
| TO pile like Thunder to its close, | |
| Then crumble grand away, | |
| While everything created hid— | |
| This would be Poetry: | |
| Or Love,—the two coeval came— | 5 |
| We both and neither prove, | |
| Experience either, and consume— | |
| For none see God and live. |
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