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Like Flowers, that heard the news of Dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their—low Brows—
Or Bees—that thought the Summer's name
Some rumor of Delirium,
No Summer—could—for Them—
Or Arctic Creatures, dimly stirred—
By Tropic Hint—some Travelled Bird
Imported to the Wood—
Or Wind's bright signal to the Ear—
Making that homely, and severe,
Contented, known, before—
The Heaven—unexpected come,
To Lives that thought the Worshipping
A too presumptuous Psalm—
Back to Emily Dickinson
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Comments2I just love how this poem captures the beauty of nature and small wonders in life! It really makes you appreciate the simple things. 🌸🐝💧
Emily Dickinson's writing isn't really my cup of tea. It's bit to abstract and winding for my taste. I mean, I get she's loved by lots and i respect that, i just dont connect with it.