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Bound—a trouble
Emily Dickinson
269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet— Deal with the soul As with Algebra! Tell it the Ages—to a cypher— And it will ache—contented—on— Sing—at its pain—as any Workman— Notching the fall of the Even Sun!
