EMILY ELIZABETH DICKINSON (1830-1886)
While I was fearing it, it came,
But came with less of fear,
Because that fearing it so long
Has almost made it dear.
There is a fitting a dismay,
A fitting a despair.
'Tis harder knowing it is due,
Than knowing it is here.
The trying on the utmost,
The morning it is new,
Is terribler than wearing it
A whole existence through
NIAMH ............thank you
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opus posthumous
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POETRY