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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 14 of 446 · First Series: Life

The Secret

— ✻ —

Some things that fly there be, -- Birds, hours, the bumble-bee: Of these no elegy.

Some things that stay there be, -- Grief, hills, eternity: Nor this behooveth me.

There are, that resting, rise. Can I expound the skies? How still the riddle lies!

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