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Emily Dickinson - Summer for thee, grant I may be
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Summer for thee, grant I may be
When Summer days are flown!
Thy music still, when Whippoorwill
And Oriole—are done!

For thee to bloom, I`ll skip the tomb
And row my blossoms o`er!
Pray gather me—
Anemone—
Thy flower—forevermore!
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