Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 310

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Drowning is not so pitiful

As the attempt to rise.

Three times, 't is said, a sinking man

Comes up to face the skies,

And then declines forever

To that abhorred abode

Where hope and he part company, —

For he is grasped of God.

The Maker's cordial visage,

However good to see,

Is shunned, we must admit it,

Like an adversity.