Читать книгу Dickinson: The Complete Works - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 296
XLI. The Forgotten Grave
ОглавлениеAfter a hundred years
Nobody knows the place, —
Agony, that enacted there,
Motionless as peace.
Weeds triumphant ranged,
Strangers strolled and spelled
At the lone orthography
Of the elder dead.
Winds of summer fields
Recollect the way, —
Instinct picking up the key
Dropped by memory.