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Jul 2020
“Let down the bars, O Death!
The tired flocks come in
Whose bleating ceases to repeat,
Whose wandering is done.

Thine is the stillest night,
Thine the securest fold;”
“Too near thou art for seeking thee,
Too tender to be told.”

-Emily Dickinson
Written by
LEGEND POETS
154
   MS Anjaan
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