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She Died At Play

Emily Dickinson

75

She died at play,
Gambolled away
Her lease of spotted hours,
Then sank as gaily as a Turn
Upon a Couch of flowers.

Her ghost strolled softly o'er the hill
Yesterday, and Today,
Her vestments as the silver fleece-
Her countenance as spray.

(C) Emily Dickinson
01/01/2000


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