Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

We play at paste,
Till qualified for pearl,
Then drop the paste,
And deem ourself a fool.
The shapes, though, were similar,
And our new hands
Learned gem-tactics
Practising sands.

1. In Lands I Never Saw, They Say
2. He Put the Belt around My Life
3. Going to Heaven!
4. I Noticed People Disappeared
5. Essential Oils Are Wrung

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1739

Последние стихотворения

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