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A shady friend for torrid days

A shady friend for torrid days
Is easier to find
Than one of higher temperature
For frigid hour of mind.
The vane a little to the east Scares muslin souls away; If broadcloth breasts are firmer Than those of organdy, Who is to blame? The weaver? Ah! the bewildering thread! The tapestries of paradise! So notelessly are made!

Poem by Emily Dickinson
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