Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

I went to thank her,
But she slept;
Her bed a funnelled stone,
With nosegays at the head and foot,
That travellers had thrown,

Who went to thank her;
But she slept.
'T was short to cross the sea
To look upon her like, alive,
But turning back 't was slow.

1. The Funeral
2. From the Chrysalis
3. “Troubled about Many Things”
4. On This Long Storm the Rainbow Rose
5. Setting Sail

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1236

Последние стихотворения

To English version