Emily Dickinson Poem

New feet within my garden go

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New feet within my garden go—
New fingers stir the sod—
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.

New children play upon the green—
New Weary sleep below—
And still the pensive Spring returns—
And still the punctual snow!

No Bobolink—reverse His Singing 🎙️
Never for Society

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