Further Poems of Emily Dickinson/It's coming—the postponeless Creature,

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IT'S coming—the postponeless Creature,
It gains the block and now
It gains the door,
Chooses its latch from all
The other fastenings,
Enters with a—"You know me, Sir?"
Simple salute and certain
Recognition,
Bold—were it enemy—brief
Were it friend,
Dresses each house in
Crêpe and icicle,
And carries one out of it
To God.

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