Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

* * *

I lived on dread; to those who know
The stimulus there is
In danger, other impetus
Is numb and vital-less.

As 't were a spur upon the soul,
A fear will urge it where
To go without the spectre's aid
Were challenging despair.

1. Real Riches
2. Reticence
3. Contrast
4. Lost Faith
5. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1718

Последние стихотворения

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