Читать книгу Dickinson: The Complete Works - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 295

XL. "I think just how my shape will rise"

Оглавление

Table of Contents

I think just how my shape will rise

When I shall be forgiven,

Till hair and eyes and timid head

Are out of sight, in heaven.


I think just how my lips will weigh

With shapeless, quivering prayer

That you, so late, consider me,

The sparrow of your care.


I mind me that of anguish sent,

Some drifts were moved away

Before my simple bosom broke, —

And why not this, if they?


And so, until delirious borne

I con that thing, — "forgiven," —

Till with long fright and longer trust

I drop my heart, unshriven!

Dickinson: The Complete Works

Подняться наверх