“The bee is not afraid of me”

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VII.

The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly ;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists ?
Wherefore, O summer's day ?

 
from Poems by Emily Dickinson (1890)

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