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The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man

Emily Dickinson

1645

The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man
For is it not his Bed—
His Advocate—his Edifice?
How safe his fallen Head
In her disheveled Sanctity—
Above him is the sky—
Oblivion bending over him
And Honor leagues away.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson | Written c. 1885
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