Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

Who robbed the woods,
The trusting woods?
The unsuspecting trees
Brought out their burrs and mosses
His fantasy to please.
He scanned their trinkets, curious,
He grasped, he bore away.
What will the solemn hemlock,
What will the fir-tree say?

1. Going
2. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
3. Thanksgiving Day
4. My Country's Wardrobe
5. Unto My Books So Good to Turn

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1720

Последние стихотворения

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