Emily Dickinson Poem

Mine Enemy is growing old —

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Mine Enemy is growing old —
I have at last Revenge —
The Palate of the Hate departs —
If any would avenge

Let him be quick — the Viand flits —
It is a faded Meat —
Anger as soon as fed is dead —
‘Tis starving makes it fat —

More than the Grave is closed to me —
Meeting by Accident,

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