Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

So bashful when I spied her,
So pretty, so ashamed!
So hidden in her leaflets,
Lest anybody find;

So breathless till I passed her,
So helpless when I turned
And bore her, struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!

For whom I robbed the dingle,
For whom betrayed the dell,
Many will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!

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: 1673

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