The Hemlock

Emily Dickinson

1830 to 1886

Poem Image
Track 1

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To satin races he is nought;
I think the hemlock likes to stand
The gnash of northern winds
Lapland's necessity.
His best Norwegian wines.
But children on the Don
That men must slake in wilderness,
It suits his own austerity,
And Dnieper wrestlers run.
Is sweetest nutriment to him,
Or in the desert cloy, β€”
The hemlock's nature thrives on cold;
And satisfies an awe
An instinct for the hoar, the bald,
Upon a marge of snow;
Beneath his tabernacles play,

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