These Are The Nights That Beetles Love-
Emily Dickinson
1128 These are the Nights that Beetles love— From Eminence remote Drives ponderous perpendicular His figure intimate The terror of the Children The merriment of men Depositing his Thunder He hoists abroad again— A Bomb upon the Ceiling Is an improving thing— It keeps the nerves progressive Conjecture flourishing— Too dear the Summer evening Without discreet alarm— Supplied by Entomology With its remaining charm—
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