Emily Dickinson
Not probable—The barest Chance
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Not probable—The barest Chance
A smile too few—a word too much
And far from Heaven as the Rest
The Soul so close on Paradise

What if the Bird from journey far
Confused by Sweets—as Mortals—are
Forget the secret of His wing
And perish—but a Bough between
Oh, Groping feet
Oh Phantom Queen!