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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 7, Poema 49
XLIX.
NOVEMBER.
Besides
the
autumn
poets
sing,
A
few
plain
days
A
little
this
side
of
the
snow
And
that
side
of
the
mist.
A
few
sharp
mornings,
A
few
stern
eyes,
—
Gone
is
the
golden-rod,
And
the
sheaves.
The
brook
is
still,
The
spicy
scents
sealed;
Soft
fingers
touch
The
eyes
of
many
elves.
Maybe
a
squirrel
stays,
To
share
my
thoughts.
Grant
me,
O
Lord,
a
sunny
mind,
To
accept
your
windy
will!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — B1 Inglés | Cuentana