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1830–1886

XXIII.

Emily Dickinson

I reason, earth is short, And anguish absolute, And many hurt; But what of that?

I reason, we could die: The best vitality Cannot excel decay; But what of that?

I reason that in heaven Somehow, it will be even, Some new equation given; But what of that?

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XXIII. · Emily Dickinson · Poetry Cove