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Complete Poems: The Single Hound - 5 by Emily Dickinson
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More poems on Spiritual

TO pile like Thunder to its close
BY
Emily Dickinson


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TO pile like Thunder to its close,
Then crumble grand away,
While everything created hid–
This would be Poetry:
Or Love,–the two coeval came–
We both and neither prove,
Experience either, and consume–
For none see God and live.


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