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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 269 of 446 · Second Series: Time and Eternity

Vanished

— ✻ —

She died, -- this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun.

Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.

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