< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
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POEMS, 127

��XXII. THE BAT.

'IP HE bat is dun with wrinkled wings

  • - Like fallow article,

And not a song pervades his lips, Or none perceptible.

His small umbrella, quaintly halved,

Describing in the air An arc alike inscrutable,

Elate philosopher !

Deputed from what firmament

Of what astute abode, Empowered with what malevolence

Auspiciously withheld.

To his adroit Creator

Ascribe no less the praise ; Beneficent, believe me,

His eccentricities.

�� �

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