Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world,
and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
"The bee is not afraid of me" by Emily Dickinson
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?
"The bee is not afraid of me,..."
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