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There is an arid Pleasure-
As different from Joy-
As Frost is different from Dew-
Like element-are they-
Yet one-rejoices Flowers-
And one-the Flowers abhor-
The finest Honey-curdled-
Is worthless-to the Bee-
There Is An Arid Pleasure
Emily Dickinson
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Poem topics: joy, pleasure, frost, honey, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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