Emily Dickinson Poem

Whole Gulfs—of Red, and Fleets—of Red

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Whole Gulfs—of Red, and Fleets—of Red—
And Crews—of solid Blood—
Did place upon the West—Tonight—
As ’twere specific Ground—

And They—appointed Creatures—
In Authorized Arrays—
Due—promptly—as a Drama—
That bows—and disappears—

Whose are the little beds, I asked
Who occupies this House?

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