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Emily Dickinson - When I count the seedsEmily Dickinson - When I count the seeds
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40 When I count the seeds That are sown beneath, To bloom so, bye and bye— When I con the people Lain so low, To be received as high— When I believe the garden Mortal shall not see— Pick by faith its blossom And avoid its Bee, I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.
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