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On my volcano grows the Grass
A meditative spot-
An acre for a Bird to choose
Would be the General thought-
How red the Fire rocks below-
How insecure the sod
Did I disclose
Would populate with awe my solitude.
On My Volcano Grows The Grass
Emily Dickinson
(1)
Poem topics: fire, red, solitude, bird, grass, volcano, thought, choose, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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