The Battle-Field

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Title:     The Battle-Field
Author: Emily Dickinson [More Titles by Dickinson]

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.

They perished in the seamless grass, --
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.

[The end]
Emily Dickinson's poem: Battle-Field

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