Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

The Book of Martyrs

Read, sweet, how others strove,
Till we are stouter;
What they renounced,
Till we are less afraid;
How many times they bore
The faithful witness,
Till we are helped,
As if a kingdom cared!

Read then of faith
That shone above the fagot;
Clear strains of hymn
The river could not drown;
Brave names of men
And celestial women,
Passed out of record
Into renown!

1. Fire
2. Lost Faith
3. Ventures
4. I Have a King Who Does Not Speak
5. Disenchantment

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1868

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