Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 171

Table of Contents

Remorse is memory awake,

Her companies astir, —

A presence of departed acts

At window and at door.

It's past set down before the soul,

And lighted with a match,

Perusal to facilitate

Of its condensed despatch.

Remorse is cureless, — the disease

Not even God can heal;

For 't is his institution, —

The complement of hell.