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The Bee by E. Dickinson

  • Emily Dickinson
  • Aug 26, 2020
  • 1 min read

The bee is not afraid of me, I know the butterfly; The pretty people in the woods Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come, The breezes madder play. Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists? Wherefore, O summer's day?

 
 
 

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