Читать книгу Dickinson: The Complete Works - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 265

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The only ghost I ever saw

Was dressed in mechlin, — so;

He wore no sandal on his foot,

And stepped like flakes of snow.

His gait was soundless, like the bird,

But rapid, like the roe;

His fashions quaint, mosaic,

Or, haply, mistletoe.

His conversation seldom,

His laughter like the breeze

That dies away in dimples

Among the pensive trees.

Our interview was transient,—

Of me, himself was shy;

And God forbid I look behind

Since that appalling day!