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They leave us with the Infinite.
But He-is not a man-
His fingers are the size of fists-
His fists, the size of men-
And whom he foundeth, with his Arm
As Himmaleh, shall stand-
Gibraltar's Everlasting Shoe
Poised lightly on his Hand,
So trust him, Comrade-
You for you, and I, for you and me
Eternity is ample,
And quick enough, if true.
They Leave Us With The Infinite
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: trust, eternity, true, infinite, stand, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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