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Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson 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! Emily Elizabeth Dickinson Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1392 Views |
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