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To hang our head—ostensibly—
And subsequent, to find
That such was not the posture
Of our immortal mind—
Affords the sly presumption
That in so dense a fuzz—
You—too—take Cobweb attitudes
Upon a plane of Gauze!
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- The Battlefield
- Rehearsal To Ourselves
- It's Thoughts—and Just One Heart
- I Had The Glory—that Will Do
- It's Like The Light, --