Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer's day?

1. As Children Bid the Guest Good-Night
2. Setting Sail
3. Is Heaven a Physician?
4. So Bashful When I Spied Her
5. Too Much

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1426

Последние стихотворения

To English version