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Poemsby Emily Dickinson

XVI

 Not with a club the heart is broken,
Nor with a stone;
A whip, so small you could not see it.
I've known
 To lash the magic creature
Till it fell,
Yet that whip's name too noble
Then to tell.
 Magnanimous of bird
By boy descried,
To sing unto the stone
Of which it died.