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Just as He spoke it from his Hands
This Edifice remain—
A Turret more, a Turret less
Dishonor his Design—
According as his skill prefer
It perish, or endure—
Content, soe'er, it ornament
His absent character.
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- The Butterfly In Honored Dust
- These—saw Visions
- Like Flowers, That Heard The News Of Dews
- He Parts Himself—like Leaves
- Smiling Back From Coronation