Emily Dickinson Poem

Flowers—Well—if anybody

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Flowers—Well—if anybody

Can the ecstasy define—

Half a transport—half a trouble—

With which flowers humble men:

Anybody find the fountain

From which floods so contra flow—

I will give him all the Daisies

Which upon the hillside blow.

 

Too much pathos in their faces

For a simple breast like mine—

Butterflies from St. Domingo

Cruising round the purple line—

Have a system of aesthetics—

Far superior to mine.

For Death—or rather
Fitter to see Him, I may be

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