Emily Dickinson

It’s Coming the Postponeless Creature

poem 390

It’s coming the postponeless Creature It gains the Block and now it gains the Door Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings Enters with a You know Me Sir? Simple Salute and certain Recognition Bold were it Enemy Brief were it friend Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle And carries one out of it to God

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