Читать книгу The Complete Poetry of Emily Dickinson - Эмили Дикинсон - Страница 96

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I like a look of agony,

Because I know it 's true;

Men do not sham convulsion,

Nor simulate a throe.

The eyes glaze once, and that is death.

Impossible to feign

The beads upon the forehead

By homely anguish strung.