He ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
A Book
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: poor, precious, book, dust, spirit, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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