Emily Dickinson Poem

At least—to pray—is left—is left

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At least—to pray—is left—is left—

Oh Jesus—in the Air—

I know not which thy chamber is—

I’m knocking—everywhere—

Thou settest Earthquake in the South—

And Maelstrom, in the Sea—

Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth—

Hast thou no Arm for Me?

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