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 If pain for peace prepares by Emily Dickinson 
						If pain for peace preparesLo, what "Augustan" years
 Our feet await!
 
 If springs from winter rise,
 Can the Anemones
 Be reckoned up?
 
 If night stands fast -- then noon
 To gird us for the sun,
 What gaze!
 
 When from a thousand skies
 On our developed eyes
 Noons blaze!
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