Читать книгу An irgendeinem Sommermorgen. Poems/Gedichte - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 40

The Grass so little has to do –

A Sphere of simple Green –

With only Butterflies to brood

And Bees to entertain –

And stir all day to pretty Tunes

The Breezes fetch along –

And hold the Sunshine in it’s lap

And bow to everything –

And thread the Dews, all night, like Pearls –

And make itself so fine

A Duchess were too common

For such a noticing –

And even when it dies – to pass

In Odors so divine –

Like Lowly spices, lain to sleep –

Or Spikenards, perishing –

And then, in Sovreign Barns to dwell –

And dream the Days away,

The Grass so little has to do –

I wish I were a Hay –

ca. 1862