Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (Эмили Дикинсон)

Disenchantment

It dropped so low in my regard
  I heard it hit the ground,
And go to pieces on the stones
  At bottom of my mind;

Yet blamed the fate that fractured, less
  Than I reviled myself
For entertaining plated wares
  Upon my silver shelf.

1. Ventures
2. What Soft, Cherubic Creatures
3. My Country's Wardrobe
4. Philosophy
5. Is Bliss, Then, Such Abyss

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1726

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