Poems by Emily Dickinson, Series One by Emily Dickinson
page 35 of 92 (38%)
page 35 of 92 (38%)
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And were you lost, I would be, Though my name Rang loudest On the heavenly fame. And were you saved, And I condemned to be Where you were not, That self were hell to me. So we must keep apart, You there, I here, With just the door ajar That oceans are, And prayer, And that pale sustenance, Despair! XIII. RENUNCIATION. There came a day at summer's full Entirely for me; I thought that such were for the saints, |
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