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Put up my lute!
Emily Dickinson
261 Put up my lute! What of—my Music! Since the sole ear I cared to charm— Passive—as Granite—laps My Music— Sobbing—will suit—as well as psalm! Would but the “Memnon” of the Desert— Teach me the strain That vanquished Him— When He—surrendered to the Sunrise— Maybe—that—would awaken—them!
