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That after Horror-that ’twas us-
That passed the mouldering Pier-
Just as the Granite Crumb let go-
Our Savior, by a Hair-
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb-
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb-
The possibility-to pass
Without a Moment’s Bell-
Into Conjecture’s presence-
Is like a Face of Steel-
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin-
The Cordiality of Death-
Who drills his Welcome in-
(Emily Dickinson)
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Based on Topics: Mind Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Faces Poems, Thought & Thinking Poems, Hair PoemsBased on Keywords: metallic, drills, cordiality