Emily Dickinson Poem

Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself

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Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Opon his rare Approach –
Go rapid, lest Competing Death
Prevail opon the Coach –
Go timid, lest his final eye –
Determine thee amiss –
Go boldly – for thou paid’st his price
Redemption – for a Kiss –

“Go tell it” – What a Message
Go not too near a House of Rose

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