Emily Dickinson Poem

Glass was the Street – in Tinsel Peril

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Glass was the Street – in Tinsel Peril
Tree and Traveller stood.
Filled was the Air with merry venture
Hearty with Boys the Road.

Shot the lithe Sleds like Shod vibrations
Emphasized and gone
It is the Past’s supreme italic
Makes this Present mean –

Glory is that bright tragic thing
Gathered into the Earth

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