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1053 It was a quiet way— He asked if I was his— I made no answer of the Tongue But answer of the Eyes— And then He bore me on Before this mortal noise With swiftness, as of Chariots And distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away As Acres from the feet Of one that leaneth from Balloon Upon an Ether street. The Gulf behind was not, The Continents were new— Eternity it was before Eternity was due. No Seasons were to us— It was not Night nor Morn— But Sunrise stopped upon the place And fastened it in Dawn.
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It was a quiet way—
1053 It was a quiet way— He asked if I was his— I made no answer of the Tongue But answer of the Eyes— And then He bore me on Before this mortal noise With swiftness, as of Chariots And distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away As Acres from the feet Of one that leaneth from Balloon Upon an Ether street. The Gulf behind was not, The Continents were new— Eternity it was before Eternity was due. No Seasons were to us— It was not Night nor Morn— But Sunrise stopped upon the place And fastened it in Dawn.
Emily Dickinson
1830 - 1886/Female/American