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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 13
XIII.
THE
ORIOLE.
One
of
the
ones
Midas
touched,
Who
missed
us
all,
Was
that
trusting
oriole.
So
joyful,
he
denies
it
With
playful
talk;
So
bright,
we
think
him
A
shining
mine.
A
pleader,
a
trickster,
A
lover
of
good
things,
a
thief,
—
Sometimes
a
song,
A
joy
in
chief;
The
clever
bird
of
orchards,
He
tricks
and
charms
For
a
whole
perfume
For
his
escape.
The
beauty
of
a
Burmah,
The
star
of
birds,
Leaving
like
a
show
Of
songs
and
tales.
I
never
thought
Jason
looked
For
any
golden
fleece;
But
then
I
am
a
simple
man,
With
thoughts
of
peace.
But
if
there
were
a
Jason,
Let
me
see
His
lost
treasure
On
the
apple-tree.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — A2 Inglés | Cuentana