Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.

If town it have, beyond itself,
'T is that I cannot say;
I only sigh, — no vehicle
Bears me along that way.

1. Our Journey Had Advanced
2. We Learned the Whole of Love
3. Doom is the House without the Door
4. Should You but Fail at — Sea
5. I Send Two Sunsets

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