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God made a little 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?"

by Emily Dickinson
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