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As Nature Piled Her Blossoms On


Oil On Linen





The Morning after Wo—
‘Tis frequently the Way—
Surpasses all that rose before—
For utter Jubilee—

As Nature did not Care—
And piled her Blossoms on—
The further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared opon—

The Birds declaim their Tunes—
Pronouncing every word 
Like Hammers—Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead—

On here and there—a creature—
They’d modify the Glee 
To fit some Crucifical Clef—
Some key of Calvary—



-Poem By Emily Dickinson

As Nature Piled Her Blossoms On

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