Mine enemy is growing old, by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

Mine enemy is growing old

MINE enemy is growing old,

I have at last revenge.

The palate of the hate departs;

If any would avenge,

Let him be quick, the viand flits,

It is a faded meat.

Anger as soon as fed is dead;

‘T is starving makes it fat.

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Emily Dickinson

Mine enemy is growing old

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