Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

* * *

A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the churchyard rang;

And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
Doubtless, he thought it meet of him
To say good-by to men.

1. On the Tleakness of My Lot
2. Possession
3. The Moon Is Distant from the Sea
4. The Oriole
5. Triumph

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