Emily Dickinson

I Could Die to Know

poem 570

I could die to know ‘Tis a trifling knowledge News-Boys salute the Door Carts joggle by Morning’s bold face stares in the window Were but mine the Charter of the least Fly Houses hunch the House With their Brick Shoulders Coals from a Rolling Load rattle how near To the very Square His foot is passing Possibly, this moment While I dream Here

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