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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 47
XLVII.
SUMMER'S
OBSEQUIES.
The
gentian
weaves
her
fringes,
The
maple's
loom
is
red.
My
departing
flowers
Avoid
a
parade.
A
short,
but
patient
illness,
An
hour
to
prepare;
And
one,
beneath
this
morning,
Is
where
the
angels
are.
It
was
a
short
procession,
—
The
bobolink
was
there,
An
old
bee
spoke
to
us,
And
then
we
prayed.
We
hope
she
was
willing,
—
We
ask
to
be
too.
Summer,
sister,
angel,
Let
us
go
with
you!
In
the
name
of
the
bee
And
of
the
butterfly
And
of
the
breeze,
amen!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana