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How many Flowers fail in Wood-
Or perish from the Hill-
Without the privilege to know
That they are Beautiful-
How many cast a nameless Pod
Upon the nearest Breeze-
Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight-
It bear to Other Eyes-
How Many Flowers Fail In Wood
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: beautiful, privilege, perish, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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