Poem

The Moon is distant from the Sea

Emily Dickinson
429 The Moon is distant from the Sea— And yet, with Amber Hands— She leads Him—docile as a Boy— Along appointed Sands— He never misses a Degree— Obedient to Her Eye He comes just so far—toward the Town— Just so far—goes away— Oh, Signor, Thine, the Amber Hand— And mine—the distant Sea— Obedient to the least command Thine eye impose on me—

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