In sordid human Life
But in a Squirrel's estimate
A Saucer hold a Loaf
A Table of a Tree
Demands the little King
And every Breeze that run along
His Dining Room do swing
His Cutlery — he keeps
Within his Russer Lips
To see it flashing when he dines
Do Birmingham eclipse
Convicted — could we be
Of our Minutiae
The smallest Citizen that flies
Is heartier than we
Emily Dickinson
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