Emily Dickinson

For This accepted Breath

poem 195

For this accepted Breath Through it compete with Death The fellow cannot touch this Crown By it my title take Ah, what a royal sake To my necessity stooped down! No Wilderness can be Where this attendeth me No Desert Noon No fear of frost to come Haunt the perennial bloom But Certain June! Get Gabriel to tell the royal syllable Get Saints with new unsteady tongue To say what trance below Most like their glory show Fittest the Crown!

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