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 Aug 2014 m
Emily Dickinson
328

A Bird came down the Walk—
He did not know I saw—
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw,

And then he drank a Dew
From a convenient Grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the Wall
To let a Beetle pass—

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroa—
They looked like frightened Beads, I thought—
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger, Cautious,
I offered him a Crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home—

Than Oars divide the Ocean,
Too silver for a seam—
Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon,
Leap, plashless as they swim.
 Aug 2014 m
caroline
i am sorry
 Aug 2014 m
caroline
you were the most beautiful
thing in my life, and the only
thing i'll ever regret letting die
Hello there, green tea!
Now tell me,
am I who I ought to be?
This is a little vague and philosophic, but I hope you enjoy the mysterious quality of this poem.
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