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Poems by Emily Dickinson, Third Series

XL.

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Three weeks passed since I had seen her, — Some disease had vexed; 'T was with text and village singing I beheld her next,

And a company — our pleasure To discourse alone; Gracious now to me as any, Gracious unto none.

Borne, without dissent of either, To the parish night; Of the separated people Which are out of sight?

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