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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 54
LIV.
CHARLOTTE
BRONTË'S
GRAVE.
All
covered
by
clever
moss,
All
mixed
with
weeds,
The
little
cage
of
'Currer
Bell,'
Lies
in
quiet
Haworth.
This
bird,
seeing
others,
When
frosts
became
sharp,
Moved
to
other
places,
Quietly
did
the
same,
But
returned
differently;
Since
Yorkshire
hills
are
green,
Yet
not
in
all
the
nests
I
see
Can
a
nightingale
be
found.
Gathered
from
many
travels,
Gethsemane
can
tell
Through
what
great
anguish
She
reached
the
asphodel!
Soft
fall
the
sounds
of
Eden
Upon
her
puzzled
ear;
Oh,
what
a
day
for
heaven,
When
'Brontë'
entered
there!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana