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Poemsby Emily Dickinson

The Tulip

Nature's Changes

The springtime's pallid landscape
  Will glow like bright bouquet,
Though drifted deep in parian
  The village lies to-day.
The lilacs, bending many a year,
  With purple load will hang;
The bees will not forget the tune
  Their old forefathers sang.
The rose will redden in the bog,
  The aster on the hill
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.