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'Twould ease—a Butterfly—
Elate—a Bee—
Thou'rt neither—
Neither—thy capacity—
But, Blossom, were I,
I would rather be
Thy moment
Than a Bee's Eternity—
Content of fading
Is enough for me—
Fade I unto Divinity—
And Dying—Lifetime—
Ample as the Eye—
Her least attention raise on me—
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Pain Has An Element Of Blank;
- Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind
- Snow Beneath Whose Chilly Softness
- Life—is What We Make Of It
- On This Long Storm The Rainbow Rose