Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 133

Table of Contents

I found the phrase to every thought

I ever had, but one;

And that defies me, — as a hand

Did try to chalk the sun

To races nurtured in the dark; —

How would your own begin?

Can blaze be done in cochineal,

Or noon in mazarin?