The World—feels Dusty

The World—feels Dusty
When We stop to Die—
We want the Dew—then—
Honors—taste dry—

Flags—vex a Dying face—
But the least Fan
Stirred by a friend's Hand—
Cools—like the Rain—

Mine be the Ministry
When they Thirst comes—
And Hybla Balms—
Dews of Thessaly, to fetch—

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Emily Dickinson

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was an American poet. more…

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"The World—feels Dusty by Emily Dickinson" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 23 Jan. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/12274>.

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