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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 3, Poema 14
XIV.
PURPLE
CLOVER.
There's
a
flower
bees
love,
And
butterflies
admire;
To
reach
the
purple
bloom
Humming-birds
aspire.
Every
insect
that
passes
Takes
some
honey
away
Based
on
its
need
And
her
ability.
Her
face
is
rounder
than
the
moon,
And
redder
than
the
gown
Of
pasture
flowers,
Or
rhododendron
worn.
She
does
not
wait
for
June;
Before
the
world
is
green
Her
strong
little
face
Is
seen
against
the
wind,
Fighting
with
the
grass,
Her
close
relative,
For
the
right
to
sun
and
earth,
Sweet
rivals
for
life.
When
the
hills
are
full,
And
new
styles
blow,
She
does
not
lose
a
spice
For
jealousy.
Her
stage
is
the
noon,
Her
provider
the
sun,
Her
progress
announced
by
the
bee
In
a
steady,
royal
tune.
The
bravest
of
the
group,
Surrendering
last,
Not
even
aware
of
defeat
When
frost
comes
fast.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana