Emily Dickinson Poem

A Cloud Withdrew From The Sky

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A Cloud withdrew from the Sky

Superior Glory be

But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries

Are forever lost to me

 

Had I but further scanned

Had I secured the Glow

In an Hermetic Memory

It had availed me now.

 

Never to pass the Angel

With a glance and a Bow

Till I am firm in Heaven

Is my intention now.

A Dying Tiger Moaned For Drink
A Coffin—is A Small Domain

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