Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

Two Worlds

It makes no difference abroad,
The seasons fit the same,
The mornings blossom into noons,
And split their pods of flame.

Wild-flowers kindle in the woods,
The brooks brag all the day;
No blackbird bates his jargoning
For passing Calvary.

Auto-da-fe and judgment
Are nothing to the bee;
His separation from his rose
To him seems misery.

1. A Syllable
2. If the Foolish Call Them
3. How Still the Bells in Steeples Stand
4. Life's Trades
5. Unto My Books So Good to Turn

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1710

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