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Me, change! Me, alter!
Then I will, when on the Everlasting Hill
A Smaller Purple grows—
At sunset, or a lesser glow
Flickers upon Cordillera—
At Day's superior close!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- The Guest Is Gold And Crimson
- She's Happy, With A New Content
- Nature—sometimes Sears A Sapling
- No Crowd That Has Occurred
- It's Easy To Invent A Life