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.
Essential Oils Are Wrung:
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson
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Poem topics: alone, summer, essential, gift, rose, lady, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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