Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu/156

 142 POEMS.

��IV.

��T X 7E cover thee, sweet face.

But that thyself fatigue of us ;
 * V Not that we tire of thee,

Remember, as thou flee, We follow thee until

Thou notice us no more, And then, reluctant, turn away

To con thee o'er and o'er, And blame the scanty love

We were content to show, Augmented, sweet, a hundred fold

If thou would'st take it now.

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