Emily Dickinson Poem

They dropped like flakes

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They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the lune
A wind with fingers goes.

They perished in the seamless grass,–
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.

They have a little Odor—that to me
They called me to the Window, for

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