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Come slowly-Eden!
Lips unused to Thee-
Bashful-sip thy Jessamines-
As the fainting Bee-
Reaching late his flower,
Round her chamber hums-
Counts his nectars-
Enters-and is lost in Balms.
Come Slowly'eden!
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: flower, lost, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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