The Gentian Has A Parched Corolla-

Emily Dickinson

1424

The Gentian has a parched Corolla—
Like azure dried
’Tis Nature’s buoyant juices
Beatified—
Without a vaunt or sheen
As casual as Rain
And as benign—

When most is part—it comes—
Nor isolate it seems
Its Bond its Friend—
To fill its Fringed career
And aid an aged Year
Abundant end—

Its lot—were it forgot—
This Truth endear—
Fidelity is gain
Creation is o’er—

Next 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : The Gentian Weaves Her Fringes
• Emily Dickinson : The Gleam Of An Heroic Act
• Emily Dickinson : The Going From A World We Know
• Emily Dickinson : The Good Will Of A Flower
• Emily Dickinson : The Grace-myself-might Not Obtain
• Emily Dickinson : The Grass So Little Has To Do
• Emily Dickinson : The Grave My Little Cottage Is
• Emily Dickinson : The Guest Is Gold And Crimson
• Emily Dickinson : The Hallowing Of Pain
• Emily Dickinson : The Harm Of Years Is On Him-

Previous 10 Poems

• Emily Dickinson : The Future-never Spoke
• Emily Dickinson : The Frost Was Never Seen-
• Emily Dickinson : The Frost Of Death Was On The Pane-
• Emily Dickinson : The Flower Must Not Blame The Bee
• Emily Dickinson : The Flake The Wind Exasperate
• Emily Dickinson : The First We Knew Of Him Was Death-
• Emily Dickinson : The First Day's Night Had Come
• Emily Dickinson : The First Day That I Was A Life
• Emily Dickinson : The Fingers Of The Light
• Emily Dickinson : The Feet Of People Walking Home