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Emily Dickinson - Of all the souls that stand create
Work rating: Medium

Of all the souls that stand create
I have elected one.
When sense from spirit files away,
And subterfuge is done;

When that which is and that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand,
And this brief tragedy of flesh
Is shifted like a sand;

When figures show their royal front
And mists are carved sway,—
Behold the atom I Feferred
To all the lists of clay!
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