Why? by Emily Dickinson — Read

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The murmur of a bee / A witchcraft yieldeth me. / If any ask me why, / 'T were easier to die / Than tell.

The red upon the hill / Taketh away my will; / If anybody sneer, / Take care, for God is here, / That's all.

The breaking of the day / Addeth to my degree; / If any ask me how, / Artist, who drew me so, / Must tell!

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