Read "Purple Clover" by Emily Dickinson online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
There is a flower that bees prefer, / And butterflies desire; / To gain the purple democrat / The humming-birds aspire.
And whatsoever insect pass, / A honey bears away / Proportioned to his several dearth / And her capacity.
Her face is rounder than the moon, / And ruddier than the gown / Of orchis in the pasture, / Or rhododendron worn.
She doth not wait for June; / Before the world is green / Her sturdy little countenance / Against the wind is seen,
Contending with the grass, / Near kinsman to herself, / For privilege of sod and sun, / Sweet litigants for life.
And when the hills are full, / And newer fashions blow, / Doth not retract a single spice / For pang of jealousy.
Her public is the noon, / Her providence the sun, / Her progress by the bee proclaimed / In sovereign, swerveless tune.
The bravest of the host, / Surrendering the last, / Nor even of defeat aware / When cancelled by the frost.