Emily Dickinson Poem

Go not too near a House of Rose

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Go not too near a House of Rose –
The depredation of a Breeze
Or inundation of a Dew
Alarm it’s Walls away –
Nor try to tie the Butterfly,
Nor climb the Bars of Ecstasy –
In insecurity to lie
Is Joy’s insuring quality –

Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Glory is that bright tragic thing

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