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 Farthest Thunder That I Heard
2. The Lost Thought
3. Reticence
4. On the Tleakness of My Lot
5. Upon the Gallows Hung a Wretch

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