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Go slow, my soul, to feed thyself
Upon his rare approach-
Go rapid, lest Competing Death
Prevail upon the Coach-
Go timid, should his final eye
Determine thee amiss-
Go boldly-for thou paid'st his price
Redemption-for a Kiss-
Go Slow, My Soul, To Feed Thyself
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: death, kiss, soul, feed, final, slow, approach, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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