| THE SPRINGTIME’S pallid landscape | |
| Will glow like bright bouquet, | |
| Though drifted deep in parian | |
| The village lies to-day. | |
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| The lilacs, bending many a year, |
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| With purple load will hang; | |
| The bees will not forget the time | |
| Their old forefathers sang. | |
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| The rose will redden in the bog, | |
| The aster on the hill |
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| Her everlasting fashion set, | |
| And covenant gentians frill, | |
| |
| Till summer folds her miracle | |
| As women do their gown, | |
| Or priests adjust the symbols | |
When sacrament is done.
by Emily Dickinson (1830–86)
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