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Poems by Emily Dickinson: XXXVIII

by EmilyDickinson
Lost Joy
XXXIX

XXXVIII

I worked for chaff, and earning wheat
Was haughty and betrayed.
What right had fields to arbitrate
In matters ratified?
I tasted wheat, — and hated chaff,
And thanked the ample friend;
Wisdom is more becoming viewed
At distance than at hand.
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