Emily Dickinson Poems

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'Tis good -- the looking back on Grief --
To re-endure a Day --
We thought the Mighty Funeral --
Of All Conceived Joy --

To recollect how Busy Grass
Did meddle -- one by one --
Till all the Grief with Summer -- waved
And none could see the stone.

And though the Woe you have Today
Be larger -- As the Sea
Exceeds its Unremembered Drop --
They're Water -- equally --

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