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Emily Dickinson · Poems

Poem 44 of 446 · First Series: Love

Apotheosis

— ✻ —

Come slowly, Eden!
Lips unused to thee,
Bashful, sip thy jasmines,
As the fainting bee,

Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums,
Counts his nectars -- enters,
And is lost in balms!

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