Our little Kinsmen — after Rain

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Our little Kinsmen — after Rain by Emily Dickinson
885

Our little Kinsmen — after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.

A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.

As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.


Poetry by Emily Dickinson (edit list):
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