Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 93

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A train went through a burial gate,

A bird broke forth and sang,

And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat

Till all the churchyard rang;

And then adjusted his little notes,

And bowed and sang again.

Doubtless, he thought it meet of him

To say good-by to men.