Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 70

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Angels in the early morning

May be seen the dews among,

Stooping, plucking, smiling, flying:

Do the buds to them belong?

Angels when the sun is hottest

May be seen the sands among,

Stooping, plucking, sighing, flying;

Parched the flowers they bear along.