Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 20

Table of Contents

Some things that fly there be, —

Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:

Of these no elegy.

Some things that stay there be, —

Grief, hills, eternity:

Nor this behooveth me.

There are, that resting, rise.

Can I expound the skies?

How still the riddle lies!