Emily Dickinson Poem

Our journey had advanced

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Our journey had advanced—
Our feet were almost come
To that odd Fork in Being’s Road—
Eternity—by Term—

Our pace took sudden awe—
Our feet—reluctant—led—
Before—were Cities—but Between—
The Forest of the Dead—

Retreat—was out of Hope—
Behind—a Sealed Route—
Eternity’s White Flag—Before—
And God—at every Gate—

Our little Kinsmen—after Rain
Only God—detect the Sorrow

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