Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 258

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At least to pray is left, is left.

O Jesus! in the air

I know not which thy chamber is, —

I 'm knocking everywhere.

Thou stirrest earthquake in the South,

And maelstrom in the sea;

Say, Jesus Christ of Nazareth,

Hast thou no arm for me?