id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentence	flesch	summary	cache	txt
dickinson-series02_163-1891	dickinson	dickinson-series02_163-1891	1891		.txt	text/plain	139	6	88	And yet it tasted like them all; The figures I have seen Set orderly, for burial, Reminded me of mine, As if my life were shaven And fitted to a frame, And could not breathe without a key; And 't was like midnight, some, When everything that ticked has stopped, And space stares, all around, Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, Repeal the beating ground. It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bells Put out their tongues, for noon.	cache/dickinson-series02_163-1891.txt	txt/dickinson-series02_163-1891.txt