His Feet are shod with Gauze —
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)
His Feet are shod with Gauze —
His Helmet, is of Gold,
His Breast, a Single Onyx
With Chrysophrase, inlaid.
His Labor is a Chant —
His Idleness — a Tune —
Oh, for a Bee's experience
Of Clovers, and of Noon!
Source: Wikisource
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Because I could not stop for Death—
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There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
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The lady dare not lift her veil …
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