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 rose 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 invoke it
Creator Shall I bloom?


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God made a little Gentian