| THE BAT is dun with wrinkled wings | |
| Like fallow article, | |
| And not a song pervades his lips, | |
Or none perceptible.
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| His small umbrella, quaintly halved, |
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| Describing in the air | |
| An arc alike inscrutable,— | |
Elate philosopher!
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| Deputed from what firmament | |
| Of what astute abode, |
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| Empowered with what malevolence | |
Auspiciously withheld.
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| To his adroit Creator | |
| Ascribe no less the praise; | |
| Beneficent, believe me, |
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His eccentricities.
- Emily Dickenson (CIV)
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