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Poems by Emily Dickinson: XXV ("Essential oils")

Updated February 28, 2017 | Infoplease Staff
by EmilyDickinson
Going
XXVI

XXV

Essential oils are wrung:
The attar from the rose
Is not expressed by suns alone,
It is the gift of screws.
The general rose decays;
But this, in lady's drawer,
Makes summer when the lady lies
In ceaseless rosemary.
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