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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 5, Poema 23
XXIII.
A
poor
torn
heart,
a
worn
heart,
That
sat
down
to
rest,
Nor
noticed
the
day
ending
Flowed
silver
to
the
west,
Nor
noticed
night
softly
fell
Nor
stars
shone,
Focused
on
the
vision
Of
unknown
lands.
The
angels,
passing
by,
Saw
this
dusty
heart;
Tenderly
picked
it
up
from
work
And
carried
it
to
God.
There—sandals
for
the
barefoot;
There—gathered
from
the
winds,
Do
the
blue
skies
by
the
hand
Lead
the
wandering
sails.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana