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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 21
XXI.
THE
MOON.
The
moon
was
just
a
chin
of
gold
A
night
or
two
ago,
And
now
she
shows
her
perfect
face
On
the
world
below.
Her
forehead
is
wide
and
blond;
Her
cheek
like
a
bright
stone;
Her
eye
to
the
summer
dew
The
closest
I
have
known.
Her
lips
of
amber
never
part;
But
what
must
be
the
smile
She
could
give
to
her
friend
If
she
wished!
And
what
a
privilege
to
be
Even
the
farthest
star!
For
surely
her
path
might
pass
Beside
your
twinkling
door.
Her
hat
is
the
sky,
The
universe
her
shoe,
The
stars
the
jewels
at
her
belt,
Her
clothes
of
blue.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana