Читать книгу Dickinson: The Complete Works - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 102

Table of Contents

God permits industrious angels

Afternoons to play.

I met one, — forgot my school-mates,

All, for him, straightway.

God calls home the angels promptly

At the setting sun;

I missed mine. How dreary marbles,

After playing Crown!