To E. D.

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Title:     To E. D.
Author: Helen Hay Whitney [More Titles by Whitney]

She wrought her songs in secret ways,
Yet cared not where they fell;
Her soul distilled itself like dews
In rue and asphodel.

They fell in countless happy hearts,
Made wise by sun and showers,
Like pollen blown about the earth,
Conceiving royal flowers.

[The end]
Helen Hay Whitney's poem: To E. D.

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