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Emily Dickinson - The Lamp burns sure—withinEmily Dickinson - The Lamp burns sure—within
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233 The Lamp burns sure—within— Tho` Serfs—supply the Oil— It matters not the busy Wick— At her phosphoric toil! The Slave—forgets—to fill— The Lamp—burns golden—on— Unconscious that the oil is out— As that the Slave—is gone.
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