Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 349

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Who never wanted, — maddest joy

Remains to him unknown:

The banquet of abstemiousness

Surpasses that of wine.

Within its hope, though yet ungrasped

Desire's perfect goal,

No nearer, lest reality

Should disenthrall thy soul.