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Poems by Emily Dickinson: XLI

by EmilyDickinson
XL
XLII

XLI

I breathed enough to learn the trick,
And now, removed from air,
I simulate the breath so well,
That one, to be quite sure
The lungs are stirless, must descend
Among the cunning cells,
And touch the pantomime himself.
How cool the bellows feels!
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