Poem by Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)




A Little Road Not Made Of Man,


    A little road not made of man,
    Enabled of the eye,
    Accessible to thill of bee,
    Or cart of butterfly.

    If town it have, beyond itself,
    'T is that I cannot say;
    I only sigh, -- no vehicle
    Bears me along that way.

 

 

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Written on 2024-11-11 at 00:03

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