Emily Dickinson Poems

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It struck me -- every Day --
The Lightning was as new
As if the Cloud that instant slit
And let the Fire through --

It burned Me -- in the Night --
It Blistered to My Dream --
It sickened fresh upon my sight --
With every Morn that came --

I though that Storm -- was brief --
The Maddest -- quickest by --
But Nature lost the Date of This --
And left it in the Sky --

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