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A happy lip—breaks sudden—
It doesn't state you how
It contemplated—smiling—
Just consummated—now—
But this one, wears its merriment
So patient—like a pain—
Fresh gilded—to elude the eyes
Unqualified, to scan—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Ah, Moon—and Star!
- After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes
- A Fuzzy Fellow, Without Feet
- Ample Make This Bed.
- Tell All The Truth