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Главная • Биографии • Стихи по темам • Случайное стихотворение • Переводчики • Ссылки • Антологии Рейтинг поэтов • Рейтинг стихотворений |
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Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон) At Home The night was wide, and furnished scant With but a single star, That often as a cloud it met Blew out itself for fear. The wind pursued the little bush, And drove away the leaves November left; then clambered up And fretted in the eaves. No squirrel went abroad; A dog's belated feet Like intermittent plush were heard Adown the empty street. To feel if blinds be fast, And closer to the fire Her little rocking-chair to draw, And shiver for the poor, The housewife's gentle task. "How pleasanter," said she Unto the sofa opposite, "The sleet than May -- no thee!" Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1628 |
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Английская поэзия | ||