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Emily Dickinson
I watcher her face to see which way
by Emily Dickinson (1830–1886) English
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I watched her face to see which way
She took the awful news —
Whether she died before she heard
Or in protracted bruise
Remained a few slow years with us —
Each heavier than the last —
A further afternoon to fail,
As Flower at fall of Frost.
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Because I could not stop for Death—
He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves— …
There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance — …
A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld.
The lady dare not lift her veil …
There came a Wind like a Bugle —
It quivered through the Grass
And a Green Chill upon the Heat …
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