There Is an Arid Pleasure, by Emily Dickinson

Emily Dickinson

There Is an Arid Pleasure

782

There is an arid Pleasure—

As different from Joy—

As Frost is different from Dew—

Like element—are they—

Yet one—rejoices Flowers—

And one—the Flowers abhor—

The finest Honey—curdled—

Is worthless—to the Bee—

#Americans #Women #XIXCentury

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Emily Dickinson

There Is an Arid Pleasure

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