Emily Dickinson

A still—Volcano—Life—

601
 
A still—Volcano—Life—
That flickered in the night—
When it was dark enough to do
Without erasing sight—
 
A quiet—Earthquake Style—
Too subtle to suspect
By natures this side Naples—
The North cannot detect
 
The Solemn—Torrid—Symbol—
The lips that never lie—
Whose hissing Corals part—and shut—
And Cities—ooze away—
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