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Our share of night to bear—
Our share of morning—
Our blank in bliss to fill
Our blank in scorning—
Here a star, and there a star,
Some lose their way!
Here a mist, and there a mist,
Afterwards—Day!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Joy To Have Merited The Pain
- Said Death To Passion
- Their Height In Heaven Comforts Not
- Wolfe Demanded During Dying
- This Heart That Broke So Long
