Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

Victory comes late,
And is held low to freezing lips
Too rapt with frost
To take it.
How sweet it would have tasted,
Just a drop!
Was God so economical?
His table 's spread too high for us
Unless we dine on tip-toe.
Crumbs fit such little mouths,
Cherries suit robins;
The eagle's golden breakfast
Strangles them.
God keeps his oath to sparrows,
Who of little love
Know how to starve!

1. The Hemlock
2. Sleep Is Supposed to Be
3. The Thought Beneath So Slight a Film
4. Sight
5. Astra Castra

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