Читать книгу Dickinson: The Complete Works - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 270

Table of Contents

Their height in heaven comforts not,

Their glory nought to me;

'T was best imperfect, as it was;

I 'm finite, I can't see.

The house of supposition,

The glimmering frontier

That skirts the acres of perhaps,

To me shows insecure.

The wealth I had contented me;

If 't was a meaner size,

Then I had counted it until

It pleased my narrow eyes

Better than larger values,

However true their show;

This timid life of evidence

Keeps pleading, "I don't know."