Emily Dickinson – CXXVII – THE bone that has no marrow

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THE bone that has no marrow;
   What ultimate for that?
It is not fit for table,
   For beggar, or for cat.

 

A bone has obligations,
   A being has the same;
A marrowless assembly
   Is culpabler than shame.

 

But how shall finished creatures
   A function fresh obtain?—
Old Nicodemus’ phantom
   Confronting us again!

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