Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 104

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The last night that she lived,

It was a common night,

Except the dying; this to us

Made nature different.

We noticed smallest things, —

Things overlooked before,

By this great light upon our minds

Italicized, as 't were.

That others could exist

While she must finish quite,

A jealousy for her arose

So nearly infinite.

We waited while she passed;

It was a narrow time,

Too jostled were our souls to speak,

At length the notice came.

She mentioned, and forgot;

Then lightly as a reed

Bent to the water, shivered scarce,

Consented, and was dead.

And we, we placed the hair,

And drew the head erect;

And then an awful leisure was,

Our faith to regulate.