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1830–1886

XLVII.

Emily Dickinson

What soft, cherubic creatures These gentlewomen are! One would as soon assault a plush Or violate a star.

Such dimity convictions, A horror so refined Of freckled human nature, Of Deity ashamed, —

It's such a common glory, A fisherman's degree! Redemption, brittle lady, Be so, ashamed of thee.

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XLVII. · Emily Dickinson · Poetry Cove