Emily Dickinson

10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886 / Amherst / Massachusetts

There Is An Arid Pleasure

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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—
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