Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

Fringed Gentian

God made a little gentian;
It tried to be a rose
And failed, and all the summer laughed.
But just before the snows
There came a purple creature
That ravished all the hill;
And summer hid her forehead,
And mockery was still.
The frosts were her condition;
The Tyrian would not come
Until the North evoked it.
"Creator! shall I bloom?"

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

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1688

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