Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

Their height in heaven comforts not,
Their glory nought to me;
'T was best imperfect, as it was;
I 'm finite, I can't see.

The house of supposition,
The glimmering frontier
That skirts the acres of perhaps,
To me shows insecure.

The wealth I had contented me;
If 't was a meaner size,
Then I had counted it until
It pleased my narrow eyes

Better than larger values,
However true their show;
This timid life of evidence
Keeps pleading, "I don't know."

1. The Nearest Dream Recedes, Unrealized
2. Experiment to Me
3. This Merit Hath the Worst
4. Till the End
5. I Think Just How My Shape Will Rise

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1740

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