Emily Dickinson

The Lonesome For They Know Not What

poem 262

The lonesome for they know not What The Eastern Exiles be Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday And ever since the purple Moat They strive to climb in vain As Birds that tumble from the clouds Do fumble at the strain The Blessed Ether taught them Some Transatlantic Morn When Heaven was too common to miss Too sure to dote upon!

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