< Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu
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1 56 POEMS.
��XVIII. THE SPIRIT.
��"~P IS whiter than an Indian pipe, -*- 'T is dimmer than a lace ;
No stature has it, like a fog, When you approach the place.
Not any voice denotes it here,
Or intimates it there ; A spirit, how doth it accost?
What customs hath the air?
��This limitless hyperbole Each one of us shall be ;
'T is drama, if (hypothesis) It be not tragedy !
�� �
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