Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practising sands.

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

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1618

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