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The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson
272

I breathed enough to take the Trick—
And now, removed from Air—
I simulate the Breath, so well—
That One, to be quite sure—

The Lungs are stirless—must descend
Among the Cunning Cells—
And touch the Pantomine—Himself,
How numb, the Bellows feels!
Book: The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson
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     Luis A Estable and ACAC
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