There will come a day
Except to Heaven, she is naught.
Except for Angels-lone.
Except to some wide-wandering Bee
A flower superfluous blown.
Except for winds-provincial.
Except for Butterflies
Unnoticed as a single dew
That on the Acre lies.
The smallest Housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the Lawn
And somebody has lost the face
That made Existence-Home!
Emily Dickinson
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