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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 333 of 446 · Third Series: Life

Poem 52

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Is bliss, then, such abyss I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe?

I'd rather suit my foot Than save my boot, For yet to buy another pair Is possible At any fair.

But bliss is sold just once; The patent lost None buy it any more.

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