Emily Dickinson Poem

She went as quiet as the Dew

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She went as quiet as the Dew
From an Accustomed flower.
Not like the Dew, did she return
At the Accustomed hour!

She dropt as softly as a star
From out my summer’s Eve—
Less skillful than Le Verriere
It’s sorer to believe!

She's happy, with a new Content
She sweeps with many-colored brooms,

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