EN + ES
Escuchar
425
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 54
LIV.
CHARLOTTE
BRONTË'S
GRAVE.
All
covered
by
clever
moss,
All
mixed
with
weed,
The
small
cage
of
'Currer
Bell,'
In
quiet
Haworth
laid.
This
bird,
watching
others,
When
frosts
were
too
sharp,
Moved
to
other
places,
Quietly
did
the
same,
But
was
different
in
returning;
Since
Yorkshire
hills
are
green,
Yet
not
in
all
the
nests
I
find
Can
nightingales
be
seen.
Gathered
from
many
travels,
Gethsemane
can
tell
Through
what
deep
pain
She
reached
the
asphodel!
Soft
fall
the
sounds
of
Eden
On
her
puzzled
ear;
Oh,
what
a
day
for
heaven,
When
'Brontë'
entered
there!
||
||
Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana