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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 11, Poema 23
XXIII.
THE
BALLOON.
You've
seen
balloons
rise,
haven't
you?
So
majestically
they
ascend
It
is
as
if
swans
forsook
you
For
duties
of
diamond.
Their
liquid
feet
glide
softly
Upon
a
sea
of
blond;
They
disdain
the
air
as
beneath
them
For
creatures
so
renowned.
Their
ribbons
just
beyond
sight,
They
struggle
some
for
breath,
And
yet
the
crowd
applauds
below;
They
would
not
encore
death.
The
gilded
creature
strains
and
spins,
Trips
frantic
in
a
tree,
Tears
open
her
imperial
veins
And
tumbles
into
the
sea.
The
crowd
disperses
with
an
oath
The
dust
in
streets
settles,
And
clerks
in
counting-rooms
observe,
'Twas
only
a
balloon.
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