Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

The Goal

Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,

Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,
Too fair
For credibility's temerity
To dare.

Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment
To touch,

Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;
How high
Unto the saints' slow diligence
The sky!

Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring
Again.

1. Sight
2. The Hemlock
3. Two Swimmers Wrestled on the Spar
4. Sleep Is Supposed to Be
5. The Thought Beneath So Slight a Film

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1345

Последние стихотворения

To English version