Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

As Summer into Autumn slips
And yet we sooner say
"The Summer" than "the Autumn," lest
We turn the sun away,

And almost count it an Affront
The presence to concede
Of one however lovely, not
The one that we have loved —

So we evade the charge of Years
On one attempting shy
The Circumvention of the Shaft
Of Life's Declivity. 

1. We Play at Paste
2. In Lands I Never Saw, They Say
3. He Put the Belt around My Life
4. Going to Heaven!
5. I Noticed People Disappeared

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1739

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