Emily Dickinson (183086). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part Four: Time and Eternity
CXXIII
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| I BREATHED enough to learn the trick, | |
| And now, removed from air, | |
| I simulate the breath so well, | |
| That one, to be quite sure | |
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| The lungs are stirless, must descend | 5 |
| Among the cunning cells, | |
| And touch the pantomime himself. | |
| How cool the bellows feels! | |
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