Letter 397 (autumn 1873) Susan Gilbert Dickinson Emily Dickinson
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Letter 397 (autumn 1873) Susan Gilbert Dickinson" от Emily Dickinson. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.
Without the annual parting I thought to shun the Loneliness that parting ratifies. How artfully in vain!
Your Coffee cooled untouched except by random Fly.
A one Armed Man conveyed the flowers. Not all my modest schemes have so perverse a close.
My love to "Captain Jenks" who forbore to call.
If not too uncongenial to the Divine Will, a Kiss also for Mattie.
"God is a jealous God."
I miss the Turkey's quaint face - once my grave Familiar, also the former Chickens, now forgotten Hens. "Pussum" cries I hear, but it is too select a grief to accept solace. Tell Mattie Tabby caught a Rat and it ran away. Grandpa caught it and it stayed.
He is the best Mouser.
The Rabbit winks at me all Day, but if I wink back, he shuffles a Clover.
What Rowen he leaves, Horace will pick for the Cow.
This is the final Weather. The transport that is not postponed is stopping with us all.
But Subjects hinder talk.
Silence is all we dread.
fThere's Ransom in a Voice -
But Silence is Infinity.
Himself have not a face.
Your Coffee cooled untouched except by random Fly.
A one Armed Man conveyed the flowers. Not all my modest schemes have so perverse a close.
My love to "Captain Jenks" who forbore to call.
If not too uncongenial to the Divine Will, a Kiss also for Mattie.
"God is a jealous God."
I miss the Turkey's quaint face - once my grave Familiar, also the former Chickens, now forgotten Hens. "Pussum" cries I hear, but it is too select a grief to accept solace. Tell Mattie Tabby caught a Rat and it ran away. Grandpa caught it and it stayed.
He is the best Mouser.
The Rabbit winks at me all Day, but if I wink back, he shuffles a Clover.
What Rowen he leaves, Horace will pick for the Cow.
This is the final Weather. The transport that is not postponed is stopping with us all.
But Subjects hinder talk.
Silence is all we dread.
fThere's Ransom in a Voice -
But Silence is Infinity.
Himself have not a face.
Комментарии (0)
Минимальная длина комментария — 50 символов.
Информация
Мы рекомендуем вам зарегистрироваться или авторизоваться, чтобы оставлять комментарии и использовать все функции сайта.
Комментариев пока нет. Вы можете быть первым!