I thought the Train would never come --
I thought the Train would never come --
How slow the whistle sang --
I don't believe a peevish Bird
So whimpered for the Spring --
I taught my Heart a hundred times
Precisely what to say --
Provoking Lover, when you came
Its Treatise flew away
To hide my strategy too late
To wiser be too soon --
For miseries so halcyon
The happiness atone --
Poem by
Emily Dickinson
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