Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 323

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Upon the gallows hung a wretch,

Too sullied for the hell

To which the law entitled him.

As nature's curtain fell

The one who bore him tottered in,

For this was woman's son.

''T was all I had,' she stricken gasped;

Oh, what a livid boon!