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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo
Colección 12, Poema 47
XLVII.
Adrift!
A
small
boat
adrift!
And
night
is
descending!
Will
no
one
guide
this
little
boat
To
the
nearest
town?
Sailors
say,
on
yesterday,
As
dusk
turned
brown,
One
small
boat
surrendered
its
struggle,
And
sank
down
and
down.
But
angels
say,
on
yesterday,
Just
as
the
dawn
was
red,
One
little
boat,
exhausted
by
gales,
Retuned
its
masts,
restored
its
sails
And
triumphantly
sped
onward!
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Poemas de Emily Dickinson, Tres Series, Completo — C1 Inglés | Cuentana