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Poems by Emily Dickinson | ||
179
[XLI. I breathed enough to learn the trick]
I breathed enough to learn the trick,
And now, removed from air,
I simulate the breath so well,
That one, to be quite sure
And now, removed from air,
I simulate the breath so well,
That one, to be quite sure
The lungs are stirless, must descend
Among the cunning cells,
And touch the pantomime himself.
How cool the bellows feels!
Among the cunning cells,
And touch the pantomime himself.
How cool the bellows feels!
Poems by Emily Dickinson | ||