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Emily Dickinson - Victory comes late,
Work rating: Medium

Victory comes late,
And is held low to freezing lips
Too rapt with frost
To take it.
How sweet it would have tasted,
Just a drop!
Was God so economical?
His table`s spread too high for us
Unless we dine on tip-toe.
Crumbs fit such little mouths,
Cherries suit robins;
The eagle`s golden breakfast
Strangles them.
God keeps his oath to sparrows,
Who of little love
Know how to starve!
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