A Book
From ImmortalPoetry
Jump to navigationJump to searchXXI. A BOOK.
HE ate and drank the precious words,
His spirit grew robust;
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was dust.
He danced along the dingy days,
And this bequest of wings
Was but a book. What liberty
A loosened spirit brings!
| from Poems by Emily Dickinson (1890) | |
| "I taste a liquor never brewed" | "I had no time to hate, because" 
|
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