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A still—Volcano—Life
Emily Dickinson
601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight— A quiet—Earthquake Style— Too subtle to suspect By natures this side Naples— The North cannot detect The Solemn—Torrid—Symbol— The lips that never lie— Whose hissing Corals part—and shut— And Cities—ooze away—
