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Noon—is the Hinge of Day—
Evening—the Tissue Door—
Morning—the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- 'Tis One By One — The Father Counts
- I Was The Slightest In The House
- Portraits Are To Daily Faces
- If He Dissolve—then—there Is Nothing
- I Got So I Could Take His Name