Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - second series (1891).djvu/184

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172 POEMS.

XLVIII.
FRINGED GENTIAN.

GOD made a little gentian;
It tried to be a rose
And failed, and all the summer laughed.
But just before the snows
There came a purple creature
That ravished all the hill;
And summer hid her forehead,
And mockery was still.
The frosts were her condition;
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North evoked it.
"Creator! shall I bloom?"