Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

The Battle-Field

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
   Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
   A wind with fingers goes.

They perished in the seamless grass, --
   No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
   Can summon every face.

1. My Country's Wardrobe
2. How Still the Bells in Steeples Stand
3. Philosophy
4. Unto My Books So Good to Turn
5. The Sun's Wooing

William Bryant (Уильям Брайант) The Battle-Field ("Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands")

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1731

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