Were natural mortal lady

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Were natural mortal lady
Who had so little time
To pack her trunk and order
The great exchange of clime —

How rapid, how momentous —
What exigencies were —
But nature will be ready
And have an hour to spare.

To make some trifle fairer
That was too fair before —
Enchanting by remaining,
And by departure more.

Emily Dickinson: Poem Collections Where stories live. Discover now