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1830–1886

THE JOURNEY.

Emily Dickinson

Our journey had advanced; Our feet were almost come To that odd fork in Being's road, Eternity by term.

Our pace took sudden awe, Our feet reluctant led. Before were cities, but between, The forest of the dead.

Retreat was out of hope, — Behind, a sealed route, Eternity's white flag before, And God at every gate.

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THE JOURNEY. · Emily Dickinson · Poetry Cove