FLOWERS
by Emily Dickinson

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FLOWERS
by Emily Dickinson

Flowers – well, if anybody
Can the ecstasy define,
Half a transport, half a trouble,
With which flowers humble men,
Anybody find the fountain
From which floods so contra flow,
I will give him all the daisies
Which upon the hillside blow.

Too much pathos in their faces
For a simple breast like mine.
Butterflies from San Domingo
Cruising round the purple line
Have a system of aesthetics
Far superior to mine.