Emily Dickinson Poem

Let me not mar that perfect Dream

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Let me not mar that perfect Dream
By an Auroral stain
But so adjust my daily Night
That it will come again.

Not when we know, the Power accosts –
The Garment of Surprise
Was all our timid Mother wore
At Home – in Paradise.

Let me not thirst with this Hock at my Lip
Let down the Bars, Oh Death

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