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Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) A Book He ate and drank the precious words, His spirit grew robust; He knew no more that he was poor, Nor that his frame was dust. He danced along the dingy days, And this bequest of wings Was but a book. What liberty A loosened spirit brings! Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1380 |
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