Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 69

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As children bid the guest good-night,

And then reluctant turn,

My flowers raise their pretty lips,

Then put their nightgowns on.

As children caper when they wake,

Merry that it is morn,

My flowers from a hundred cribs

Will peep, and prance again.