Emily Dickinson Poem

The last of Summer is Delight —

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The last of Summer is Delight —
Deterred by Retrospect.
‘Tis Ecstasy’s revealed Review —
Enchantment’s Syndicate.

To meet it — nameless as it is —
Without celestial Mail —
Audacious as without a Knock
To walk within the Veil.

The Life that tied too tight escapes
The Lassitudes of Contemplation

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