The Blue-Flag in the Bog
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The blue-flag in the bog has found
A way to lift
A long-stemmed leaf above the mire,
And it has stood
A high-brimmed cup,
To hold the overflow,
The tops of the wild grasses,
The embroidered leaves,
It is a sunbeam stray again,
A wild swan’s wing—
Can its beauty be taken from me,
The sweet scent of the blue-flower,
In this beautiful deep?

• Edna St Vincent Millay