Emily Dickinson Poem

The way Hope builds his House

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The way Hope builds his House
It is not with a sill —
Nor Rafter — has that Edifice
But only Pinnacle —

Abode in as supreme
This superficies
As if it were of Ledges smit
Or mortised with the Laws —

The Way to know the Bobolink
The waters chased him as he fled

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