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Dying! To be afraid of thee
One must to thine Artillery
Have left exposed a Friend—
Than thine old Arrow is a Shot
Delivered straighter to the Heart
The leaving Love behind.
Not for itself, the Dust is shy,
But, enemy, Beloved be
Thy Batteries divorce.
Fight sternly in a Dying eye
Two Armies, Love and Certainty
And Love and the Reverse.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Conscious Am I In My Chamber
- Spring Is The Period
- You See I Cannot See—your Lifetime
- Snow Flakes
- Deprived Of Other Banquet