Emily Dickinson Poems

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The Judge is like the Owl --
I've heard my Father tell --
And Owls do build in Oaks --
So here's an Amber Sill --

That slanted in my Path --
When going to the Barn --
And if it serve You for a House --
Itself is not in vain --

About the price -- 'tis small --
I only ask a Tune
At Midnight -- Let the Owl select
His favorite Refrain.

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