Emily Dickinson Poems

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Where bells no more affright the morn --
Where scrabble never comes --
Where very nimble Gentlemen
Are forced to keep their rooms --

Where tired Children placid sleep
Thro' Centuries of noon
This place is Bliss -- this town is Heaven --
Please, Pater, pretty soon!

"Oh could we climb where Moses stood,
And view the Landscape o'er"
Not Father's bells -- nor Factories,
Could scare us any more!

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