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Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a "Diver"—
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.
Her heart is fit for home—
I—a Sparrow—build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- He Was Weak, And I Was Strong—then
- Peace Is A Fiction Of Our Faith
- The Test Of Love—is Death
- I Am Ashamed—i Hide
- I Know That He Exists