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Emily Dickinson - It was not death, for I stood upEmily Dickinson - It was not death, for I stood up
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It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down. It was not night, for all the bells Put out their tongues for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh I felt siroccos crawl, Nor fire, for just my marble feet Could keep a chancel cool. And yet it tasted like them all, The figures I have seen Set orderly for burial Reminded me of mine, As if my life were shaven And fitted to a frame And could not breathe without a key, And `twas like midnight, some, When everything that ticked has stopped And space stares all around, Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, Repeal the beating ground; But most like chaos, stopless, cool, Without a chance, or spar, Or even a report of land To justify despair.
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