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It can’t be - Emily Dickinson
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It can’t be Emily Dickinson

It can’t be - Emily Dickinson
It can't be "Summer"!
That—got through!
It's early—yet—for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White—to cross
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge
The Dead shall go in White
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!
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