Friday, April 13, 2007


THE BEE is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer’s day?

- Emily Dickinson
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1 comment:

Mana said...

Thanks for writing this.