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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


My Reward for Being, was This (1800s)
by Emily Dickinson

My Reward for Being, was This.
My premium — My Bliss —
An Admiralty, less —
A Sceptre — penniless —
And Realms — just Dross —

When Thrones accost my Hands —
With “Me, Miss, Me” —
I’ll unroll Thee —
Dominions dowerless — beside this Grace —
Election — Vote —
The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.


sweet mother of asparagus
— GengarIsBestBoy