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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 13
XIII.
THE
ORIOLE.
One
of
the
ones
that
Midas
touched,
Who
did
not
touch
us
all,
Was
that
trusting
wanderer,
The
joyful
oriole.
So
cheerful,
he
denies
it
With
playful
charm;
So
bright,
we
think
he's
A
landing
mine.
A
beggar,
a
pretender,
A
lover
of
fine
things,
a
thief,
—
Sometimes
a
great
song,
A
joy
above
all;
The
trickster
of
orchards,
He
cheats
while
he
charms
Of
an
entire
scent
For
his
leaving
needs.
The
splendor
of
a
Burmah,
The
meteor
of
birds,
Leaving
like
a
parade
Of
songs
and
of
bards.
I
never
thought
that
Jason
sought
For
any
golden
fleece;
But
then
I
am
a
rural
man,
With
thoughts
that
make
for
peace.
But
if
there
were
a
Jason,
Tradition
let
me
See
his
lost
treasure
Upon
the
apple-tree.
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana